Will I?
by diepolitiker
Summary: AU- the team's in college, and Prentiss has a troublesome secret. Can her friends, the BAU team, help her find a way out? Will someone care? M for issues, minor language and some femslash. May be triggering.
1. A Day in the Life

**(A/N: This story is AU; it's set before the BAU was formed, and puts all of our favorite team members together at the same college. Rated M for self-harm, alcohol use, and possibly some slash. I don't endorse self-harm. It's truly horrible, hard to recover from, and has long-term consequences. If you know someone who does, be there for them, don't give up on them, and encourage them to get help.)**

Prentiss woke up to the dispiriting clang of her alarm clock and the sound of rain drumming on her window. It was another Monday. She always did well in her classes; the college, though rigorous, was public and not an Ivy League school. Oh well. She would never have been able to afford Harvard, and anyway, a loud, nagging voice constantly in the back of her head told her she was too stupid to have gotten in there anyway.

"Shut that thing off, you stupid dyke," her roommate muttered sleepily from across the tiny dorm room. Prentiss had come out about a month ago, and as soon as her roommate saw the Facebook post, it only exacerbated the tension between them. Her roommate, of course, had told the whole dorm of 200 students right away, and now all the girls, and even some guys, avoided her. If she was in the communal bathroom, people would act afraid, as if she would attack them. _Just because I'm bi, doesn't mean I want to sleep with everything that moves,_ she thought bitterly. She was 20; most of the students living here were younger than she was, so she was ashamed to say that she was allowing them, a bunch of immature high-school-ish girls with no direction in life, to bully her.

Prentiss, carefully covering her body with a towel as she changed out of her pajamas slipped into the towel and headed to the bathroom down the hall. This was the worst part of her day. The whispers and avoidance of the "freak," and the fear that her towel or a curtain would slip and reveal her scars. She stepped into a stall, pulled the curtains, and turned up the water as hot as it would go.

Her right leg stung so badly from the heat that she just managed not to scream. Last night, after a phone argument with her mom during which she'd said that Prentiss would never be good enough, and several of her dorm mates pushing her into the November mud, ruining her clothes, she felt so awful, her internal voice screaming insults, feeling like she'd never be good, have any value, that she'd carved "failure" into her thigh. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to run her leg under the hot stream, then carefully wipe at the wound, large and still an angry red, with a clean washcloth. She needed to keep the cuts, the scars clean, prevent infection, complications, so that no one would find out that she wasn't the strong, perfect person she tried to project. A 3.92 GPA and a smile hid so much. She hurriedly finished getting ready for the day, grabbed her shoulder bag out of her room, left the building, and, ignoring the pain as her jeans chafed at the word she'd carved, got on her bike and went to class.

It was a literature course; the assigned book was Kafka's _The Metamorphosis_ at the moment. She of course, remembered the book and everything she needed to bring. Including her tools. She never knew when she would feel like hurting herself, and the need was so overwhelming that she often couldn't even wait to get back to the dorm to do it. And anyway, there were other places on campus that offered more privacy for her to do what she needed.

Her classmate and, well, she guessed, her friend, Spencer Reid, smiled at her as she walked in the classroom and motioned to the seat next to him. She wished he would stop being friendly; she was just a failure, nothing, not worth his time, his friendship. But she had to hide. So she forced a smile in return and sat next to him. "You weren't paying any attention last class. Do you need to borrow my notes?" the skinny 17-year-old asked in an undertone. He was a prodigy, in college at a young age, and thus was an outcast like her. She nodded, and began copying as much as she could before the professor walked in and began another lecture. _How could you be so stupid? You need to pay attention, it's what normal people do! If anyone found out about things, especially the college, you can kiss graduate school goodbye! _she thought viciously. She didn't need the notes to tell her about the book, though. She remembered every word of it. It was about a man who suddenly woke up one day transformed into a monstrous, disgusting insect and was shunned and alone by everyone after that.

She felt like that man; well, not exactly. She felt like she was him, but able to disguise herself successfully as being a normal person. But if people got too close, saw her for the _thing_ she really was, they would shun her just like happened to Gregor Samsa. Prentiss absently scratched her leg, then stopped. Bad. She couldn't reopen the cut, start bleeding all over the lecture hall. She sat through the long class, then afterwards, quickly moved to leave. Reid stopped her in the hall.

"Emily, are you okay?" he asked. "You don't talk to me hardly at all. You used to when the semester started, and you seem sad."

"I'm fine, Spencer," she snapped, and took a few steps away from him.

He caught up with her and touched her shoulder, reaching up, since he was still shorter than she was. "And you're limping, too."

"Spencer…" she sighed.

"At least have lunch with me in the union. We used to do that a lot." Prentiss shrugged, and started to walk with him in that direction.

"Really, you don't look that good," Reid said. "Tired and pretty pale. You could use some food. I'll buy this time." Prentiss could see that he wasn't going to be deterred.

"What do you want?" he asked her at the counter.

"I don't care. You pick something for me, okay? I'll go find a table."

Prentiss wanted to slump down unnoticed somewhere, with just her and Reid- no, she wanted to be alone. But today wasn't her day. JJ, Morgan, Garcia, and Hotchner were crammed together at a small table and waved her over. They rounded out her small group of friends, if Prentiss could still call them that. She felt so alone lately and had basically given up talking, unless, like Reid, someone made her by asking her a direct question. She never went to the movies or coffee or a party or ate with them much any more. Trying not to show she was sighing inwardly, she sat down with them.

Morgan was talking. "So I'm already planning this party for Saturday night, and you all have to come. I got my acceptance already to Columbia for my master's degree, so I'm celebrating. I'll buy everything. Nothing better to commemorate an intellectual feat with than killing brain cells by drinking, right? It would just be us, and Reid if the little guy's allowed," he joked. "I don't like huge crowds, and my landlord would kill me for throwing a kegger."

"I don't think I want to go, thanks though, Derek," Prentiss mumbled.

JJ, sitting nearest, shook Prentiss's shoulder. She winced inside; she had scars only a few days old there. "Come on, Emily! You've been so out of it lately, you need to have some fun. I'm not letting you say no," she insisted.

Reid came by with a sandwich for himself and Prentiss's favorite wrap. As they all sat there, she pushed the food around, only taking a few bites and not saying much. She eventually got up to leave, and as she picked up her bag, the sleeve of her black sweater slipped.

Reid noticed immediately. The neat lines of scars and cuts, various stages of healing, some white, some pink, some an angry red, all in the few inches of arm exposed for a brief second. JJ saw too, and stifled a gasp, looked over at Reid. "Is she..what's going on?" she whispered after Prentiss left.

"I don't know," he whispered back. "What's there…what can we do?"

Neither of them knew.

That night, Prentiss cursed floridly under her breath in the underused bathroom in the basement of the library. She'd cut deeper than she intended, and as she put her jeans back on, a dark bloodstain formed all over the leg. At least it was dark; people wouldn't see her slinking back to the dorm looking like that. And she'd wash them in the communal laundry at 2:30 or so this morning, when it would be empty.

JJ blinked her tired eyes and decided to walk across the dorm basement to stretch her legs. Study break. There was a light on in the building's laundry room. She took her jacket off and sniffed it. Maybe she could ask the person still up doing laundry if he could throw that in their load.

She opened the door to see Prentiss elbow-deep in the large sink, looking frustrated. She moved closer. "Emily, are you doing laundry? Could I throw this in?" Then she saw what was in the sink, the bloodstains all over it. "Did you fall? How did you ruin those pants?"

She moved quickly away from her and slipped on the damp floor. Her fall dislodged something from her pocket; a metal blade that pinged on the tile. Prentiss scrambled for it, but JJ was faster, and picked it up, examining it and her friend. It took a minute to put the truth together.

"Emily," she said gently. She didn't respond. "Emily," she said more firmly. "You need to tell me what's going on here."


	2. Revealed

**(A/N: Thanks for the story alerts/favorites. Reviews are very appreciated and keep me writing! If you have title ideas, or think I have some detail of Emily's condition or how she's treated wrong, or just want to say "good job," tell me in the reviews. As always: I don't, don't, don't endorse self-harm. May be triggering for some people.)**

Prentiss stared at the tile, focusing very hard on the humming of a machine behind her. If she met JJ's soft blue eyes, she'd start crying. She couldn't do that. She never cried. If she started, she would never stop. There was so much pain she never expressed, never talked about. Even if she let herself, if she tried, the tears wouldn't come. The pain was on one side of a giant wall, guarded by towers and topped by barbed wire, and if she let herself feel all of the emotional pain, she thought she would die. And hurting herself let her create a real, tangible pain that distracted her from the walled-in other pain. "Emily!" JJ snapped.

Prentiss glanced up at her, carefully watching her face to see how mad she was, ready the second JJ had raised her voice to dodge a blow. It had been a few years since the bullies hit her, and even her parents snapped at her less now that she was hardly ever home, but Prentiss still feared, somewhere deep within her, being hit or screamed at, even though she was talking with one of her best friends.

JJ changed tactics. "It's okay, really." She tried to put a calming hand on her friend's shoulder. Prentiss flinched, almost like a wild animal wanting to bolt. "Let's sit down." The blond stretched herself out on a dry area of the floor and motioned for Prentiss to sit down next to her. She did, but sat a little distance away so she couldn't be touched.

"Are you…you…doing…why?" JJ stammered.

Prentiss nodded at the floor. It was easier to pretend that JJ wasn't there. "There's just…you guys never saw it, but I've always had so much pain here- inside me- that I need to make another pain. If I have to face what's inside, I'll die. And I need to be, to feel, like I'm in control of things. This lets me control _something_ when everything else is out of my hands. And calms me down. I'm always on edge. I'm a failure, nothing anyway. I deserve to be hurt, I need to be punished. Being treated like a leper here in the dorm and fighting with my mom all the time doesn't help either." This was more words than she had spoken at once in weeks. She was shaking all over, and felt the urge slam into her all over again, like surf, like a great wave. She couldn't do this. Couldn't tell, couldn't face everything. Who she had become. Her breath caught in her throat, came in short, ragged gasps, and she felt like she might throw up the little bit she had eaten that day. She clamped down hard on her bottom lip with her teeth so she wouldn't cry, could keep the pain in her.

"Look," JJ said gently. "You have to calm down. Just breathe, okay? Take a deep breath." She rubbed Prentiss's shoulders; she stiffened but didn't move away.

"I'm not mad at you," the blond said softly. "I know you must be really afraid. You need to…I…figure out a way to stop."

"I can't!" Prentiss protested. "I can't imagine the worse things I'd be doing if I wasn't cutting! I'm…saving myself. You have no idea what it's like!"

JJ sighed. "You're right. I don't. Don't yell, okay? We're just talking, nice and easy."

After her initial antagonism towards JJ, Prentiss just crumpled. There was no other way to describe it. JJ, noticing the change, moved closer and put an arm around her friend. Prentiss's head dropped onto her shoulder. "Please don't tell anyone," she muttered.

"I can't promise you that," JJ said carefully. "You need help."

"But if people find out, especially the school or the other people here in the building that will just make the bullying worse! And I might as well stop thinking about graduate school if the administration or my professors would know- I'd never be able to get a recommendation, they wouldn't think I was stable enough to, you know, go further with my future. Plus, I can't _stand_ looking weak. If you tell, you'll ruin me. I could even be kicked out of this dorm, put on the street! That can be done to people who self-harm because their habit is "negative for the community,"" Prentiss explained, starting to sound panicked again. "And then what would happen?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't want to have you get hurt because of people finding out, though. But if you don't stop, get some kind of help, you could…could die."

"I know," Prentiss said miserably. "But I feel like I'll also die if I don't hurt myself any more. It's a Catch-22."

JJ shook her head. "If you start feeling like that, next time call me, come to me. You have all my numbers."

"I feel like hurting myself all the time." She sniffled, close to crying but still not letting herself.

JJ bit her lip. "I think right now, you'd feel better if you went to sleep. It's almost three in the morning. And here, I'll trade you." JJ dug into her schoolbag and found a red Sharpie marker. She opened her hands, with Prentiss's razor in one hand and the marker in the other. "I keep this-" she pocketed the blade, "and you get this-" she gave Prentiss the marker. "Try, when you feel like hurting yourself, just draw with this on yourself instead. It might help. You could get some of the sense, the feeling of hurting, without causing any injury."

_Never mind. _Prentiss thought. _I've got nine more in my room, and three in my shoulder bag. Do you really think taking that will stop me?_

"Why don't you go to bed, Emily? I'll finish washing those jeans for you and return them tomorrow- well, technically, later this morning."

Prentiss nodded. Suddenly, JJ hugged her tightly, throwing her arms around the dark-haired, skinny girl. She tried not to cry out- her friend had inadvertently caused some cuts on her chest and shoulders to rub the wrong way against her clothes.

Upstairs, Prentiss changed in her tiny room, glad beyond belief that her roommate was asleep already. She didn't turn the light on. She hated to look at herself, her body, and see what she'd done. Although she still felt like cutting, the urge competed now with a bone-deep exhaustion that even blotted out her anxiety over what had just happened, so she got into her top bunk, reached into her small wooden box topped with a carving of a rose inset in a heart-shaped bit of glass in its top that she'd carefully hidden on the highest shelf behind some books, and took out one blade. She squeezed it, feeling the cool metal bite into her palm, but she's not cutting, not yet. Somehow, she fell asleep like that.

While she waited for the baking-soda and detergent paste to set in and clean the blood off the laundry Prentiss had been trying to wash, JJ texted Reid.

_You thought something was wrong with Emily? I found out she's hurting herself. It seems bad. You're the boy genius, can you do some research on this and help me figure this out? Meet you in the library tomorrow at 2ish to talk about what you found._

The next afternoon, after having had lunch with Prentiss and forced her to eat _something_ substantial, JJ hurried into the library. It was only 1:30, she was early, but knowing Reid, she'd find him there then anyway. She had to look around the large, mazelike building some, but soon found him in his favorite spot, a large table by a window that faced the campus's main sidewalk. JJ smiled a little. Spencer did like to people-watch.

Reid was rapidly reading a book titled Self-Mutilation in Culture and Psychiatry when she sat down. Anyone else would have thought he was just flipping pages, but JJ knew he took in every word. There were stacks of other similar books, and a growing pile of notes, surrounding him.

"Spencer," she said firmly after a few minutes of trying unsuccessfully to tear him away from his research. "It's me, JJ. What do you know so far?"

Reid pushed the stack of notes towards JJ. "Those notes are for you- I've summarized the most important parts of what I've read onto them."

"Doesn't look much like a summary to me- more like a book in itself!" JJ cracked, in an attempt at humor.

"Well, I guess I can get carried away," the child prodigy admitted. "But here's the vital statistics on self-harm- you can call it that or self-injury or cutting, only not self-mutilation, that's an exaggeration and might offend people who do this. And never, never, never call Emily a "cutter" or "self-harmer." She's still Emily, after all. Okay, so this affects about four percent of the population at some time in their life, enough to cause problems or to make the person seek help, with 25 percent of respondents under 30 having tried self-harm at least once, and 15 percent of college students having hurt themselves deliberately in the past year. Forms of it include cutting, burning, severe scratching, bone breaking, interfering with wound healing, overdoses taken without the intention of suicide, and more. Somewhat more females than males do this, it's estimated that…"

JJ cut him off "I appreciate your facts, but let's please go on to what might cause it, how it can be treated, and what, I guess, the "prognosis" would be for someone."

And Reid was off again. "There's no definite cause, but risk factors include being the victim of abuse or a trauma, having a co-occurring mental or behavioral problem, most commonly depression, anxiety, or substance abuse, being a perfectionist, low self-esteem and feelings of worthlessness, being bullied, feelings of emptiness or of disassociation, being lonely, and just generally being in any kind of severe emotional pain. Complications can happen- like life-threatening blood loss, infection, anemia, tetanus, social withdrawal, and a worsening of emotional pain. It's hard to treat because the person becomes "addicted" to self-harming. When we get hurt, our bodies release natural painkillers and calming chemicals to help cope, so that release happens over and over, often, for a person who self-harms, and they need those chemicals, psychologically and maybe even physiologically. There's a hypothesis that long-term self-harm may even change the number of those certain chemical receptors in the brain or how they work, like some hard drugs do. With treatment, though, Emily's outlook is good. 90 percent of people receiving regular psychological help for self-harm stop within a year of getting help. But here's the bad news. If not stopped, a person who's addicted to the self-harm and has been doing it over the long term has a 10 percent chance of either committing suicide or dying due to complications. Treatment generally is cognitive behavioral therapy; changing how the person thinks so that they don't have such negative ideas about themselves and the world, which feeds into self-harm, or dialectical behavioral therapy, which does some of that, but also works on interpersonal skills and mindfulness, to improve the person's daily life so they don't feel like hurting themselves. Sometimes a low dose of antidepressants or antianxiety medication can help, but only if depression or anxiety also occur."

"Okay, but what can we do to help Emily, I mean, right now?" JJ asked.

"Just support her emotionally, encourage her to get treatment, and maybe suggest some alternatives for her when she feels like hurting herself. The alternatives are on that page over there-" Reid gestured. "But, all told, not very much, she has to want help. We can only be there. Are you thinking about maybe telling some of our other friends about this?"

JJ chewed her lip. "I might. It's so hard to know what to do right now."

**(A/N: Aww, poor Spencer and JJ! They're so worried! This fic is depressing, but I promise things do start looking up for Emily, though I don't believe in happy fairy-tale endings. Emily's experience is a little bit autobiographical, so I want to keep any change she makes, or outcomes, realistic. And if you know someone who hurts themselves, Reid and JJ are good models here. Just be there for the person. Also, Reid's facts are, to the best of my knowledge, current and accurate.)**


	3. Past and Future

**(A/N: Thanks for the reviews, please keep them coming. This is going to be a fill-in chapter, explaining how Emily got to this point.)**

Prentiss sighed and slumped over her books on the couch in the student union. _No matter how much you study, you're going to fail. Worthless. Failure. Stupid, _she thought. She couldn't even focus today; she was barely able to stay awake after her late night with JJ, nor could she keep out her memories, the bad feelings.

_Flash. _Little seven-year-old Emily stood nervously in front of her mother, holding her quarterly school progress report. She may have only been in second grade, but she knew what was expected. Straight A's. The perfect child. And she hadn't made it this time.

"Well, let's see," her mother said coldly and evenly, snatching the paper from her daughter's hand. She nodded as she saw the neat row of A's across the top, then scowled, her whole face changing, as she saw the one mistake. It was math, Emily's worst subject. No matter how hard she tried, she could never get an A there. She would find herself writing numbers down wrong from the chalkboard, flipping digits around, and taking much longer than the other children to do problems. Every day in that classroom, she'd silently scream at the numbers _Stay still!_ But they never would. To even get that B had taken a stupendous amount of effort, staying after school every day for weeks and studying for hours until she had a severe headache.

"A B!" her mother yelled. "How could you do that to me? It's just like an F! I need you to be excellent, this is unacceptable!"

"I'm sorry, Mom!" she protested. "I did my best! You know I was staying after school to get help with my math every day." Her head started to pound again, and tears built up behind her eyes.

"I gave you excellence, I'm a great parent, and all I ask is that you get good grades," Emily's mother said, like she was talking to a three-year-old. "So what's this?"

"Mom, I?..." Emily started to cry and sniffle.

"Stop crying!" her mother shouted. "You're such a baby! How will you get ahead in life if you're just crying all the time? I didn't raise you to be stupid, you're garbage, and you disgrace me!"

Emily ran to her room and gently closed the door. If she slammed it, she would be in even more trouble. She lay down on her bed, crying and trying not to cry at the same time. Why did her mother treat her like this? She'd been told she was garbage so many times that she was beginning to believe it. Thoughts spun wildly around in her head, and she couldn't stop or slow them. _You're so stupid, a failure. A bad person. You deserve to be punished for your stupid mistakes. And you yelled at your mom, too! You're terrible. You're nothing. You're always going to failfailfail. You'll never be good enough. Ever! Stop crying, be strong._

She didn't know what to do with the pain, the feelings. There was too much pain for her to even cry, and anyway, she wasn't supposed to. Without any conscious thought as to what she was doing, she held her hands out and smashed her wrists against the headboard of her bed. A jolt of pain shot up both arms, and she gritted her teeth to keep from crying out.

Emily stopped, took a deep breath. For some reason, she now felt immediately calmer, _better_ somehow, at least a bit. This scared her even then- why did this happen? But the guilt, the feeling that she was somehow bad, persisted. She hit her wrists again, and again, until the feelings stopped, then lay on her bed in a tired, blank daze.

"Dinner, Emily." Her mother's voice floated up the stairs to her room. Emily got up, carefully pulling the sleeves of her shirt down over the bruises starting to form.

_Flash. _Twelve-year-old Emily sitting alone in the school cafeteria. She kicked her feet against the bench of her table, trying to eat her sandwich and failing. She felt like her throat was choking up with loneliness, and she could barely swallow. She hadn't been paying attention, and someone, one of her many bullies, came up behind her, shoving her off the bench and onto the hard floor. "Nerd. Dyke," the boy sneered, kicking her as she struggled to get up. "With short hair like that, you've got to be a lesbian."

_I'm not!_ Emily screamed inside. But she couldn't deny the feelings she sometimes had when she saw a beautiful girl. She got back up and looked around the cafeteria. Everyone else was sitting in large, laughing groups, and she sat alone, like a rock in a stream, the pain inside her growing every day. She never cried any more. Not since she was about eight. There was no way for her to express whatever was in her.

She bent down to tie her shoe and tugged the leg of her pants down, checking to make sure that the cuts and scars, now on her ankles and partially covered by her socks, wouldn't show.

_Flash._ Emily was fifteen now. Sophomore year. She sat quietly, got A's, but she never talked in school any more, she hadn't since she started high school, except to answer a teacher's direct question if it was required for her grade. She rapidly took notes, ignoring the paper balls that the boy behind her was flicking at her head, the girls whispering about her. At home now, she didn't talk either, unless asked a question or ask for something she really needed, like food or school clothes. This had been happening since she was about ten. Sometimes a week or more went by without her saying a word. People had been frustrated with her not talking, but eventually, they gave up. They always did. No one even talked to her any more, except for the bullies' teasing and whispers. She seemed fine with it, but was actually so lonely.

_Flash._ Emily smiled a little as she looked around her dorm room on freshman move-in day. She could make a new start here, and she resolved to start talking from here on out. And things did improve, a little. It was so difficult for her to speak after such a long silence, but she eventually started again, first smiling, then saying "hi," then forcing out a sentence or two. She was mostly left alone here, but by the end of her first year, she had made a loose group of friends; herself, JJ, Reid the child prodigy, Morgan, Hotchner, and Garcia. Left alone, that is, until she put up that Facebook post on National Coming Out Day in October of her junior year. Her friends had, of course, supported her and "liked" it, but once her roommate found out and told everyone, she faced harassment every day, and none of them knew how bad it really was. That's part of the reason her self-harm, which had been much less frequent from the time she started college until then (she'd even been able to go months without it, she had felt so proud of herself,) had started again with a vengeance. It was almost every day by the time JJ found her out.

After finally being able to get some studying done, Prentiss returned to her room very late, again. 12:43 a.m. She opened her desk to look for a highlighter to put in her bag for the next day, and found a thin manila envelope in the drawer that she hadn't put there. After determining that it contained only paper and not something else, like shaving cream or manure or something someone would send her as a cruel prank, she opened it. Two sheets, one with Reid's chicken scratch handwriting, the other with JJ's neat, loopy, if somewhat crooked cursive. Reid's sheet held a long list of things, she couldn't figure out what they meant at first, then thought about what was scrawled across the top of the page. "Alternatives." _JJ, you're dead. You weren't supposed to tell. But I guess you only told the child genius, it could have been worse._ The other page held a list of hotlines, emergency numbers, and people and organizations Prentiss could call for help. _Right. Like I'll talk to some stranger_. But she was touched by her friends' concern. And even though she still cut that night before going to sleep, because she hadn't so far that day and needed, _needed_ to, she at least stopped and thought first, and didn't go as far as she originally wanted to. At 1:30 that night, she finally fell into an uneasy sleep, still feeling unsatisfied.

**(A/N: Sorry for the ending here; trying to keep it real. Things do improve and get less depressing, it'll just take a few chapters. Also, here's some foreshadowing :) "Hey, don't do that, baby girl, what's wrong?" Morgan asked clumsily. "This is a party, you don't need to be sad." Prentiss was crying so hard she could barely breathe. "She's had a lot to drink," JJ said worriedly. "I don't…I can't even begin to explain this…Nothing, everything's wrong," Prentiss choked. "Try," Garcia said softly. "We're all here anyway, so we'll listen to you.")**


	4. PostIt

Prentiss biked to her class she had with Reid the next morning, by now so tired she could barely stand up. All the late nights were taking a toll on her. They were still doing Kafka's _The Metamorphosis_, with an open-ended three-to-five page essay on the work due the following Monday. Prentiss hadn't even got any ideas together yet, and she was usually so prepared. The feeling that she was Gregor, the monstrous vermin in the book, disguised, just wouldn't go away. And she had another paper due in her class on the First Amendment, and an exam in Judicial Process she had to study for, in two days. She liked her majors fine; dual English and political science, and she usually never let the work creep up on her and bury her like this, but the past few days had been anything but usual.

Reid was already sitting in the classroom when she entered, and to both of their surprise, got up and hugged her. Prentiss usually didn't let people do that, nor was Reid ever very affectionate. They normally just sat near each other, sometimes talking a bit, like there was an invisible line on the table between them. She didn't respond, but later, during the lecture, slid a note across that line.

_Spencer, I know you know. JJ told. Just please _(she underlined this four times) _don't tell anyone else. You have no idea what the consequences could be if people find out._

During the next lull in the lecture, he slid it back. _Yes, JJ told. I did some research for you_, _so did she. Did you get the envelope we sent? And have you been sleeping at all lately? I thought you looked tired Monday, now you look like a zombie. No offense. We won't tell the school or anything- just please get some help._

Prentiss was scribbling back _Yes, I got it. I've had a lot of late-_ when she was interrupted by the professor nailing her with a question.

"Emily!" he said sharply. "I was asking you whether you thought Gregor's transformation could be interpreted as allegorical- standing for something else. Many people think that, given the book's timeframe, Gregor's change could be seen as foreshadowing the Holocaust and how Jews would be treated. Give me a different idea."

She said the first thing that popped into her head, with no time for internal editing. "I read what happened and how he was treated as standing for stigma. A modern interpretation would say that his transformation could stand for people finding out a person is mentally ill or has a disability- and thus the person is shunned and loses favor and status. The "literally becoming an insect" could be a way of dramatizing that."

The professor looked at her funny for a second, then said "Good, good. Stigma. Anyone else have any ideas?"

She went back to her note to Reid. _Nights. And when I go to bed, I can't sleep. And you know how I'm bisexual? Well, my roommate found out and told the whole dorm. They've been bullying me constantly. And I have a lot of work to do. It's stressful._

Reid didn't pass the note back after she gave it to him, but after the class, he took her aside and said "I don't have any classes for the rest of the day- my other professor is sick, so he cancelled. And you can miss a class or two, once. Let's get something to eat, then you can come to my apartment and get away for a bit. Take a nap. I'll even do your homework for you while you sleep, so you can get caught up and maybe you won't feel so bad." For some reason, Prentiss found herself agreeing. She knew this fragile, young-looking prodigy would never hurt her, didn't have ulterior motives.

"Well, this is it," Reid proudly showed Prentiss around his recently-acquired one-bedroom apartment. His mom was still living in that same city, but with her schizophrenia advancing, even though he knew he had to take care of her, he just couldn't live with her any more. He went back to the house every two or three days to check on her, but it was so nice to have a place of his own, to study in peace. "Anyway, go to sleep, you can nap in my bedroom, it's not gross, I'm not your typical burping, farting boy." He smiled at his friend. "And here, give me your bag, so I can use your books and notes to do the work."

"I feel bad…you don't need to do this," she said.

"I want to. JJ and I, we really want you to be okay."

Guilt seemed to stab Prentiss. She was worrying her friends, causing problems. Why couldn't she just be normal? "I'm sorry. Try not to worry about me," she said hesitantly.

"Stop it," Reid said firmly. "We're your friends, and you don't have anything to apologize for." Prentiss handed her bag over.

Prentiss immediately fell into a dead sleep the minute her head hit Reid's meticulously-made bed. She was so tired.

Reid looked through Prentiss's bag for her notes; he could have written her essay on Kafka cold, but he wanted to see how she had written things down, to make it seem more like she had written it. A zippered, hidden pocket caught his attention as he took out the right notebook. _Stop it. She's a very private person. She'd hate you for going through her things. _But something in him made him open the pocket.

Inside were a few bandages of various sizes, tape, a lone alcohol wipe, and a nearly-empty tube of antibiotic ointment. And clattering around at the very bottom were two boxes of double-edged razor blades, safely sheathed in the plastic cases. Reid's heart sped up, and his mouth felt as dry as if he had been chewing on cotton balls. If he took them, could he stop her? She could always get more. Or (he shuddered at the thought) she might find the need so overwhelming that she would improvise with something else, something less clean, less safe, and possibly do more damage than she had intended to. He texted JJ. _Emily's with me at my apt. She gave me her bag so I could do some of her work while she napped and I found her…blades in it. Do something? If so, what?_

He tried to start working while he waited for JJ's reply, but found he couldn't concentrate. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. While he might not be able to stop her, there was something he could do to help. Reid slunk past the sleeping Prentiss in his bedroom to the bathroom, finding his first-aid kit under the sink. Opening it back in the living room, he carefully took out some different-sized bandages, a small bottle of alcohol, and several packets of ointment, then putting it all in that pocket of her bag. JJ texted him back _I wouldn't take them if I were you, she can just get more, so all taking them would do is make her mad that you snooped. Besides, if a person's desperate, they'll use anything. Just keep showing you care._ So then he wrote on a sticky note, sticking it to one of the boxes of blades. _Emily. Think before you act. We all care about you.- Reid._ She would be angry with him for looking, for seeing that part of herself that she struggled so hard to keep secret, but he couldn't stand the thought of her hurting herself even one more time.

Prentiss finally woke up around six in the evening; Reid had checked on her a few times, but she looked so exhausted that he thought it was best to let her sleep. He had easily knocked out the two papers she had to write, and made her study cards for her exam, summarizing all the key information she would need.

"Here you go," he said, a forced casualness in his voice. "I'll probably run into you on campus tomorrow or the next day, and if nothing else, there's Morgan's party on Friday night. Though I have to say, I've never drank before in my life. Now listen-" his tone changed to a more serious one "-if you need anything at all, please call or text or e-mail or send me a carrier pigeon. I'm here for you, just like JJ is. Please take care of yourself."

Later that night, after her roommate had gotten bored with mocking her and gone to bed, the pain behind the wall swelled in Prentiss again, threatening to spill past the barricade she had begun building years ago. That couldn't happen. She couldn't take all of those _feelings_. She grabbed her schoolbag, in which she now kept all her blades and supplies for cleaning up afterwards because she'd decided with her roommate, the room itself was no longer a safe place to hide things, and scurried down to the dorm's one private bathroom, in the basement. With fumbling fingers, she locked the door, sat down on the tile, and reached into the hidden pocket. Her hand closed on the box, but she also felt something else in there- a bit of paper. Pulling the box out, she found the paper stuck to it.

Reid's handwriting, his signature. She felt sick inside. Someone had been prying into her life, the most private reaches of herself, seen…It was as if, being the disguised Gregor Samsa, Reid had just really seen her for the vermin she was. With shaking hands, she read his note. After that, the guilt was so strong that she wouldn't, _couldn't _cut and hurt her friend, but couldn't not do it, face her pain, either. "Fuck you, Spencer!" she said to the empty air. The sound was very loud in the small room. Prentiss gritted her teeth to stop herself from howling like a wounded dog. Then she remembered something JJ had told her. Pulling out her cell phone, she found JJ's number.

"Emily?" JJ asked. "Are you there?"

Prentiss couldn't respond, too lost for words. "Emily," JJ repeated. "I know you're there. Are you okay?" No answer. "Talk, or not, okay? Just please don't hurt yourself. I'm here. Right here. You're going to make it through this. You really will. Just, please, you don't need to do this."

Both of them were silent for a very long time, maybe an hour, maybe two. Prentiss curled her knees to her chest, just sitting on the floor, drowning in pain, until her arm and back started to ache from sitting like that for so long and holding the phone. Finally, she said "JJ, I'm going to bed now."

"Sleep well." Despite JJ's wishes, Prentiss slept fitfully, fragments of dreams floating in and out of her head, but that was still the best sleep she had had in the past few nights.

She dreaded facing JJ, her questions, her prying, the next morning, and if she saw Reid, she was going to yell at him so badly his ears would burn and fall off. Deep down, she knew they meant well and wanted the best for her, but her need, the voice of her habit, screamed louder than their love. She hated that; it wasn't like she meant to be mean to, to alienate some of her only friends, but the habit spoke for her.


	5. Out

**(A/N: Please review, I love any kind of feedback! Thanks to everyone who favorited/story alerted me. This chapter will be pretty sad, but also sort of hopeful. Warning: contains alcohol use, language.)**

Reid didn't see Prentiss on Thursday, or on Friday during the day; he was worried, but JJ had promised to make her go to Morgan's party, and he could check on her there. JJ got busy as well, but, on Thursday as Prentiss was getting her mail and the other girls were avoiding her, whispering, JJ noticed that. Before she could react, one of them got in Emily's face, sneering "Dyke. Slut."

"Leave her alone," JJ snapped, stepping in between Prentiss and the bully.

"Ooh, Emily's got a girlfriend!" she mocked.

"She's not my girlfriend, but she's my friend. And if she wants to like women _and_ men, she will. Let her be who she is. And if you don't, all of you, stop teasing her…I don't know what I'll do, but you won't like it!" she trailed off. Then, to Prentiss "You okay?" She nodded, looked gratefully at JJ.

Prentiss, studying that night, smiled every time JJ's actions crossed her mind. Someone cared.

Friday evening. JJ knocked on Prentiss's door. "Come on, we have to go to Morgan's, I'm taking you to the party!"

"I don't feel like it," she mumbled through the closed door.

"You need to have some fun. I'm not about to take no for an answer!" the blond insisted. "Don't make me bust down the door and drag you out."

Prentiss opened the door. "Okay, okay, I'm coming."

"Wearing that?" JJ teased. Her friend was in sweatpants and a ratty old Yale hoodie.

Sighing tiredly, Prentiss said, "I guess I should change, huh? And put on some makeup. Pretend to be normal and happy."

"You don't have to pretend with any of our friends- that's why you have them, to have people you can be real around. But, if you looked better, you'd probably feel better." JJ said.

Prentiss found a smile from somewhere inside her. "Yeah. Okay, go stand in the hall- I'll find some jeans and a nicer top, then maybe you can help me with my makeup if you want." She locked the door and changed into jeans and a black V-neck long-sleeved shirt over a tank top, avoiding the mirror on the wall as she did so. She hated seeing her scars. The top edge of the tank just managed to cover the ones on her chest. After digging out all her makeup, she opened the door and said "All right, JJ, go to it, I know you like to do makeup."

"Do you have any ideas for it?" Prentiss shrugged. She had so much to deal with, was so tired, that she didn't care how she looked; besides, JJ would do a good job.

"Okay then," JJ took Prentiss's desk chair and put it in front of the large mirror. "Sit down and hold still." Close to her, in the light, JJ noticed how worried, how exhausted she looked. The dark circles under her chocolate eyes were so extensive that she looked bruised, a map of lines radiating out from them. More worry lines planed and sloped across her forehead and were beginning to form around her mouth, and her whole face looked more angular, more stark now, as if she was losing weight.

JJ bit her lip. Not only did seeing Prentiss like this make her worry even more for her friend, but it also presented a challenge; how could she make her look like she wasn't- she winced inside at her own description- halfway dead? But she would manage it. She carefully brushed concealer, then foundation, under Prentiss's eyes and on her face where the lines were worst, to mask them, added lots of mascara and eyeliner to keep the focus on her eyes and off the rest of her face, which was paying the biggest toll for her worry, then blush to put some color into her ghost-white complexion, a warm, subtle pink lipstick, and reddish-brown eyeshadow. A dark color would only highlight the circles that JJ had tried so hard to hide.

"There you go," she said finally. "Does that help?"

"Thank you, JJ," Prentiss said "For everything, but especially for this. I finally look…well, not-hideous again."

"You're beautiful however you are," JJ said, and she meant it- even with no makeup and in pajamas, there was a certain natural look, dignity, and grace about Prentiss that gave her a sort of unconscious beauty she always carried with her. "Now let's go or we'll be late, and Morgan and Hotchner will drink, well, everything, before we get there."

"Going on a date, Emily?" one of the other girls mocked as she and JJ left the dorm together.

"No, I, she's…." Prentiss stammered. They were in the tiled stairwell, with brick walls. JJ moved so fast that Prentiss barely knew what happened, just heard the scuffle and saw JJ holding the other girl against the wall.

"Shut. Up. Now," JJ said in a cold, dismissive voice, like she was talking to a dog that had done something on the carpet. She was holding the girl tightly by her scarf. "Got it?"

The girl, massaging her neck and trying to get back to breathing normally, just nodded. "Good." JJ said.

They walked the six blocks to Morgan's apartment in a November drizzle. "Thanks for that," Prentiss said, somewhat embarrassed.

"Don't mention it- no, really, don't, because I'm pretty sure that's assault," JJ said lightly, then changed her tone. "Thank you for calling me the other night. How are you, really?"

"I don't really know. I haven't…well, in two days, I don't know how much longer I can go without it."

JJ stopped and hugged her. "You can do this, but you need help. Did you use any of the information, the numbers I gave you?"

Prentiss shook her head, ashamed. She knew JJ wanted the best for her, but it was so hard to pick up the phone, to send an e-mail, to admit she wasn't who she pretended to be.

"Emily! JJ!" Morgan's tall frame filled the doorway as he let the girls in. "Good timing- Spencer's just about to have his first drink ever! Aaron's here, but we're waiting on Penelope- no doubt she's still in her closet coming up with one of her unique outfits for this. Well, unique puts it mildly."

They congratulated him and went in; eventually, Garcia showed up, and the party got into full swing. The warmth of Derek's place, the presence and laughter of everyone, seemed to help Prentiss, and JJ watched her carefully to make sure she was all right. But then, something changed in Prentiss, broke. She couldn't stand the need to hurt herself any more, and stupidly, she'd left her bag with her blades at the dorm, so she couldn't sneak off somewhere and take care of it.

_Well, maybe there's another way,_ she thought as she was sipping her second drink. She downed that, then a third, then a fourth, a fifth, and had just drunk Reid under the table, daring him to drink two shots of straight vodka right in a row (he couldn't even finish one, and she was past caring about the taste or the pain in her throat,) when the crying started.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," she insisted at first, but she wasn't. She only started to cry harder, totally unable to pull it together despite her internal voice screaming at her to do so, to not be a baby, not cry.

"Emily, baby girl, what's wrong?" Morgan asked as he entered the living room."This is a party, you don't need to be sad."

"She's had a lot to drink," JJ said worriedly. "I should have watched out for her better." By now, Prentiss was crying so hard she could barely breathe.

"I don't…can't even begin to explain this…Nothing, everything's wrong," she choked, slurring her words a little.

"Try," Garcia said softly. "We're all together here anyway, so we'll listen to you."

The usually quiet Hotchner said, "We're all here for you, okay? I'm sure not _everything_ can be wrong."

"It is! I…I…" she stammered. "I-I've been c-cutting myself, and everyone is being mean to me because I'm b-bi, and I've been fighting so much with my mom. I really need to cut right now but I can't and I just don't know how to deal with this pain! Derek, you usually c-carry a pocketknife, don't you?"

Morgan saw where she was going with this and said "I don't have it on me, and I'm certainly not going to goddamn give it to you," he said as calmly as he could. "But we're all here, and we'll help you get through this." He was sitting next to Prentiss on the sofa and moved to hug her. Before he could react, she'd hit him in the jaw, and now over and over in the chest as he tried to hold her.

"You don't understand how much I need this! I hate you, I hate you, Ihateyou, Ihateyou!" she protested.

"You can- ow! hate me all you want, sweetie, I'm not letting you do this- ow! Stop fighting, I'm trying to fucking help you!" he responded. He looked over at Hotchner. _A little help here?_

Carefully, so as to avoid hurting her or getting hit himself, Hotchner pinned Prentiss's arms behind her back as Morgan held her. After what seemed like an eternity, she stopped struggling, now merely exhausted, crying in Morgan's arms as the pain that she thought would kill her washed over her.

Morgan looked at Hotchner. _I think you can let her go._ "Baby girl, Hotch is going to let go, only don't hit me. Things really will be all right." He did, and Morgan saw that Reid was conferencing with Garcia in whispers in the corner, and JJ set a glass of water on the coffee table and gave him some tips. He really had no idea what to do.

"It's all right, Emily. Shhh. Just try and breathe, nice and deep, ok? We're all here for you," he said clumsily. She calmed down some, but was still crying. By that time, everyone had gathered back around her.

"Don't scare us like that, Emily!" Garcia half-scolded- she couldn't yell at her, not with a constant stream of tears going down Prentiss's cheeks and her makeup going all over her face, like an abstract painting. Garcia was almost crying herself. "How could you- ever- it- why?" she said incoherently as she wiped Prentiss's eyes with her sleeve.

"I don't know! I've just…this has been off and on for years, I-I don't know how to deal with life without it. There's this pain inside- it just hurts so much. I feel like if I don't cut, I'll have to face that." She started crying harder, while Reid used his research to explain a little to the others.

"So what can we do?" Hotchner asked, but Prentiss only shrugged and looked down. Now that it was all out there, she felt so ashamed, exposed; as if she had stripped herself naked.

"I think I'll offer to rearrange the face of anyone who is mean to you," Morgan said. "Don't you think I'm suitably intimidating? Hotch could help too." Prentiss nodded, tried to smile through her tears.

"And, and, Spencer and I can use our mad skillz to find you some help. Hell, I'll even hack in and divert money from some corporate account, to pay, if it turns out you can't afford to see a professional. Trust me, some fat-cat CEO needs the money a whole lot less than you do."

"And you know I'm always here for you," JJ said gently. "You can call me whenever. Or any of us."

Prentiss cried a bit more, but slowly managed to stop, and JJ made sure she got back home okay. The dark-haired young woman crashed into bed immediately, sleeping like the dead. She woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, upset stomach, and a feeling that she'd done something very wrong. Then the memories, though hazy, of the night before, hit her. _Wait…shit. But they all said they'd help. Still, I feel like a freak, a total idiot. Is there a large rock I can hide under somewhere?_

**(A/N: Aww, Emily, you don't need to be ashamed! Things start getting better from here on out, I swear. What did you guys think of the big reveal?)**


	6. Eight Words

**(A/N: Sorry for not updating! I usually go, like most Minnesotans/Wisconsinites, "up north to the lake" on weekends, where we sometimes don't even have electricity, let alone WiFi, on our boat.)**

Before Prentiss got herself together enough to do anything else but lie in bed rubbing her forehead and blinking up at the ceiling, there was a loud, authoritative knock on her door. She groaned, and her roommate, who was already awake and had woken her up by watching TV, went to get it. It was Morgan and Hotchner, standing tall and putting on an intimidating air that she knew they were faking. These were the kindest, most caring men she knew, but her roommate didn't know that. And right now, the men looked ready to start snapping some necks. Guiltily, Prentiss saw that Morgan had a bruise on his jaw and moved carefully, as if nursing his chest. "Hotch, Derek…" she mumbled sleepily "What are you…?"

"Go back to sleep, Emily. This isn't worth getting up for. We'll handle it." Hotchner said. Moving into the tiny room, he flicked off the blaring TV. Thank you, she thought.

Morgan was staring down her roommate. "Ms. Lestrange. If you'll please step out here in the hall with us for a minute," he said icily. Faced with those two, the five-foot-four nineteen-year-old who'd nonetheless caused the older, taller Prentiss so much pain had no choice but to do what they asked.

Prentiss was still too out of sorts to get up, but listened through the thin door to try to catch what they were saying as Hotch and Morgan defended her. They were speaking softly, but she could catch "…doesn't matter how she leans…say one word…won't like the consequences. She'll tell us if you…"

The roommate came back looking rather shaken, then quickly left again, saying nothing. And when Prentiss finally got up and walked down the hall, no one there said anything to her, tried to trip her, or made comments. There were, however, more whispers. But now they sounded- scared? Good. She didn't care, and having the bullies threatened like that seemed like a small act of vengeance, compared to all they'd done to her. Let them be scared, feel one ounce of the fear and pain she dealt with every day.

Outside, it was beginning to snow, the wet pavement starting to turn to ice. Back in the room, Prentiss's cell phone buzzed. It was a call from Garcia.

"Come over, okay? I'll make you something to eat."

"Penelope, you don't have to..."

"No, I insist. I hugged you last night and I could feel all your ribs. You haven't been eating right, for ages probably."

"But, I..." Prentiss protested weakly.

"No buts! You're coming over, and I'm making food and you're eating it! See you in 20 minutes."

Garcia didn't mince words when Prentiss showed up on her doorstep. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry, but you look like shit. How are you, really?" she asked, hurrying her in from the cold.

"I can't sleep," she admitted. "And it's hard to eat because I'm so stressed. Sometimes I forget to. I'm just so sad, so hopeless all the time."

"I figured, baby girl," Garcia said, adopting Morgan's term of endearment. "You cried for almost two hours last night."

Prentiss stared at the floor. "I know, I'm still hungover. And I shouldn't have done that."

"Don't feel bad," Garcia assured Prentiss. "Now we know what's going on, and we can look out for you. Eggs, pancakes, or French toast?"

"Um, pancakes, I guess." She sat and drank tea, willing her monstrous headache to go away, as Garcia flew about the tiny kitchen. Though still ashamed at her outburst, seeing her friends care, help her, made her feel so much better. She was astounded when she took a minute to think and realized she didn't, for a bit anyway, feel like cutting. It was a start.

"I'm worried about you," Garcia said as they began to eat.

"Don't worry, okay?"

"How can I not worry when you're slicing yourself up? What if something happened and you ended up in the emergency room or, dead?" Garcia paused for a second. "I'm sorry, that was harsh. But you need to get help, so you can stop. I'll have money for you, to afford it, by tomorrow evening. Only don't ask how- you are talking to the goddess of all hacking here!"

"Thank you," Prentiss said gratefully. She was beginning to think that she did need, did want, professional help- after all, she couldn't live like this forever, and some part of her screamed for release from the pain, the hopelessness she'd known for so long.

Garcia pressed on. "JJ gave you a list of different organizations and stuff that could help you, right? I bet some of them are local counselors, et cetera. If you bring that list, and come back here tomorrow afternoon, you could call and get an appointment, and I'd be here, maybe Reid and JJ would be too. For moral support." She smiled.

Prentiss shifted nervously in her chair. This was all moving too fast, and what if she got locked up the minute she told a professional, because she was "dangerous?" What if other people found out? "Okay, but I'm scared," she said hesitantly, sounding like she had to pull the words out one by one. And she did- it killed her to admit a stupid weakness like that.

Garcia reached around the syrup bottle to squeeze her friend's hand. "I know. But we have a plan now. And no one is out to hurt you- people will help, you'll see. Now try and calm down and eat your food, all right? Seriously. I feel like I'll crush you when I hug you now." She switched to lighter topics, chattering on about computers and her wardrobe, while watching to make sure Prentiss ate. The dark-haired girl was too emotional to be hungry at first, but, after a bit, began to feel the effects of many incomplete or altogether missed meals, and then ate so much that Garcia wondered where she was putting it all.

But that night, things took a turn for the worse. Prentiss's mother called, and said eight words, just eight little one-syllable words, that left the pain in the girl's heart swelling, bursting, threatening to knock down the wall she'd built in her head. Prentiss's first thought was to grab a blade, but her second thought was to go find JJ. The blond was thankfully alone in her dorm room, and opened the door immediately. She tried her best to calm Prentiss down, but after almost an hour of trying, it seemed like nothing would help. Prentiss insisted she needed to cut, now more than ever before.

They reached an uneasy agreement. "Do it, in front of me," JJ said. "Not like some drug addict secretly shooting up. Besides, I want to know you won't go too deep or anything." Prentiss didn't want to hurt her friend by making her see this, but JJ rebuffed all efforts at letting Prentiss shield her, and in her present circumstances, the feelings, Prentiss felt like there was no other way. She rolled up her sleeve and made a gash, a new wound, in her upper arm, long and bloody, along with a few smaller, less deep cuts. As she did it, she tuned everything out; even forgot JJ was there until she yelped, "Stop!" The blond's face was a mask of concern and pain, mixed with a look that seemed like she was about to throw up. "Enough, okay? That has to be enough… Emily, I love you, and I'm so scared for you." She touched Prentiss's hand, and a shiver went up her spine.

"Okay. I'm so sorry- are you all right?" Prentiss asked, pocketing the blade before JJ could take it, and wiping her friend's tears away. _She's crying for me_ she thought, guilt screaming through her brain.

"If I'm all right?" the very pale JJ shot back. "You're the one bleeding! Let's get you cleaned up." Despite Prentiss protesting that she could do it herself, JJ carefully cleaned and bandaged her friend's arm, in so doing noticing the many other scars layering her, like lines on a canvas. It hurt so badly to see all that. And although recent events were hardly conducive to her flirting with the dark-haired girl she'd crushed on for so long, JJ hugged Prentiss and kissed her on the cheek that night. _Just like any close friend_, JJ said to herself, trying to talk herself out of starting a relationship. Emily didn't need all that drama right now; she needed to work on herself.

As for the eight words Prentiss's mother had said that had gotten the girl to that state in the first place? She'd just called Prentiss, said "I know you're bi. Don't come back home," and hung up.

Monday evening, the next day. Prentiss lay on her bed, tired and emotionally wrung out, unsure what to think. The money Garcia had given her was stashed safely in the wall, under a loose baseboard, and she, Reid, and JJ had all helped her make some calls, practically _made_ her find help. Prentiss felt ambivalent about this prospect at first, but the longer she lay there, the more she could see a glimmer of hope. On Friday, she would be seeing a psychologist with a Ph.D (Reid had insisted that the more credentials the person had, the better,) one Dr. Lake. Prentiss had breathed a sigh of relief that she was female; she couldn't see herself baring her soul to a man. Her friends, on the other hand, were relieved she could get in soon (this was mainly due to Garcia's insistence, her indomitable stubbornness,) but Prentiss still felt a bit lost, confused. It was all too fast.

And Friday came all too quickly. That whole week, her friends had spent time with her, supporting, watching, listening, but still, she'd cut twice more. At least she'd gained maybe a pound; the others kept insisting that she eat, not just push her food around on her plate. But they couldn't be with her every second.

She felt more tired than nervous, though she was a lot of both, as Hotchner dropped her off at the building, a large, old, place downtown sandwiched between a coffee shop and a bookstore. Just below it was a jewelers. There was no sign advertising that this was the place people went to to get their heads shrunk, and Prentiss breathed a sigh of relief at this. Although Reid had given her statistics, saying that six percent of the US population was in therapy at any point, she still felt ashamed and wanted to stay incognito. "You're not going to run, are you? Want me to walk you up there?" Hotch offered.

Prentiss shook her head, swallowed hard. "Aaron, I'm too tired to run. Besides, I…I…know I need to do this."

"Good luck. It'll work out. Just text me when you want to be picked up," Hotch said.

Prentiss, biting her lip, heart pounding so hard that she was surprised she couldn't see its rapid-fire beats through her sweater, carefully chosen to best hide her cuts and scars, went up the steep flight of stairs. When she stopped at the door, read the sign, her stomach did an unpleasant flip and he breath caught in her throat. She knew if she hesitated here, she wouldn't end up going in. So she only paused for the barest second before opening the door.

Twenty minutes later, after some paperwork and about five minutes' wait that felt like five days to Prentiss, a short, small, well-dressed brunette in her midthirties came up from the offices into the waiting room. "Emily?" Prentiss glanced up from her shoes to catch the barest glimpse of her, studiously avoiding looking her in the eye. Prentiss then got up on legs that might as well have been made of wood and wiped her now-sweating hands on the legs of her jeans. She did feel, though, slightly better about the whole idea of help now that she saw she had six inches and fifteen pounds on the doctor. If worse came to worse, she could run off, or fight her, she thought ridiculously. "I'm Dr. Lake," the woman said gently, noticing Prentiss biting her lip, her shallow, quick breathing, and shaking she was trying hard to hide but that would occasionally come out in her shoulders, a twitch of her head. Everything in her reminded the doctor of a scared deer, one that knows the hunter is there and has stopped running, just waiting for the next move. "Why don't you come on back and we'll talk."

Prentiss got up automatically and followed the woman. There were so many emotions battling in her tired, anxious, confused head, but she fought to keep her face blank. Even here, Prentiss would not be weak.

**(A/N: I've been through therapy before, and read a lot of stuff on psychology, but I'm still not exactly sure how to work the next chapter, which will be Prentiss's first session. If you have ideas, please tell me in the reviews!)**


	7. Salty but Sweet

**(A/N: Don't hesitate to correct me if I get something wrong in this chapter, or anywhere- I want to be accurate and realistic.)**

Prentiss scanned Dr. Lake's small but comfortable office, holding a few chairs, a couch, and a squashy office chair. On a coffee table sat a box of tissues. _Right. Like I'm going to cry here, _she thought. She wouldn't let that happen.

"Have a seat if you like," Dr. Lake said, half expecting Prentiss to bolt out the door and not come back; she looked that nervous. But there was also something like determination in her eyes; she looked like someone facing the prospect of a surgery that, though necessary, would be done without anesthetic.

The dark-haired girl avoided the couch; she wasn't going to lie down and pour her heart out. Instead, she took a chair by the window; looking through the blinds, she could see Hotchner, now joined by Reid, through the window of the nearby coffee shop. _Remember your friends_, she ordered herself. _They're so worried- if nothing else, do this for them._

"Emily, why do you think you came to talk to me today?" The doctor had sat down across from Prentiss, who felt suddenly trapped. She bit her lip, already well-chewed, and struggled to keep her hands still in her lap. How was this supposed to help? All it was doing right now was scaring her.

Prentiss looked down, addressing her shoes, the turquoise Converse Morgan had given her for her last birthday. They reminded her of her friends and gave her a quick stab of courage. "Because of my friends, really. I've been self-harming, and they found out and gave me the push I needed to get help."

"And did you want to come here? Or did they make you?"

Prentiss smiled a little, thinking of how Garcia had badgered her way into getting her this appointment; normally, the wait to get some help was about two weeks. "Some of both, I guess. I mean, I know I can't keep doing…this forever, and they convinced me that if I want to change anything, I need help."

A pause. "What do you want to change?" Dr. Lake asked.

"I don't know- I'm just tired of feeling so bad all the time."

"I'll give you some questions in a bit, to try and gauge if you're depressed or anxious, and if so, how much. But right now, let's talk about your life. What could be contributing to how you're feeling now?"

"My mother, mostly," Prentiss snorted. "It's like this- she always demands perfection. Ever since I started school, kindergarten even, she'd scream at and punish me if I ever got a B. When I'm home, she criticizes my every move, and she would call me a lot, complaining about every little aspect of my grades, my behavior, even when I was away at college here. I'm never, ever good enough for her." She paused, bit her tongue to keep back tears that were threatening to form. "And last Sunday night, she found out I'm bisexual, so she called and said "don't come back home. I don't know where to go from there. But at least the other people in my dorm have started leaving me alone about it. They used to bully me really badly; gossiping, treating me like a leper, even hurting me. Until my friends Aaron and Derek- they're huge- came up to my roommate last week and threatened to rearrange some faces if she, she's the one who started it all, and everyone else, didn't leave me alone. Now I'm just ignored."

Prentiss talked a little more, answered the questionnaires, and was beginning to feel less nervous, when the hard questions started. Having to talk about, to answer for things like how often, where on her she self-harmed, and what would set her off, what she'd use, was so hard. She started to feel that awful feeling like she was naked all over again, and having to talk about it only made her want to do it more. Finally, she suddenly found herself doing what she had sworn not to do- cry.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be crying," Prentiss sniffled. "It's just so difficult to actually talk about this…self-harm. It feels like you've cut my chest open and you're looking at my heart, probing everywhere! This is so personal, so private…" she trailed off, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and streaking mascara all over it.

"I'm only asking these things to assess risk. I'm not out to upset you. Okay? It is hard to talk about though, and I know that. But everything you say here is totally confidential. So if you're going to crack your heart open, this is the place," Dr. Lake said evenly, pushing the box of tissues across the table so it would be closer to Prentiss.

Twenty minutes later, Hotchner picked his friend up, studying her carefully to make sure she was all right. Prentiss had been crying, that was for sure- despite the situation, he and Reid had to fight down a laugh at the comical way her mascara had streamed down her face. "I'm dropping off Reid first, he took the bus down here to meet me. You can sit in the front," Hotchner offered. Prentiss got in automatically, and as they drove, struggled to fix her face to erase the evidence of tears.

She didn't seem in the mood to talk, but Reid still asked, "How did it go? Are you going back again?"

Prentiss shrugged. "It was okay. You'd think a boy genius would know that meetings like that are confidential," she tried to tease. "But I am going back, same time next Friday."

"The first big snowstorm of the year is supposed to start then. We'll make sure one of our friends drives you there and picks you up again," Reid said.

"Thank you," Prentiss said quietly. "And thanks for driving me today, Hotch."

Hotchner glanced over at her. "No problem. And now that we have the serious questions out of the way, are we allowed to laugh at the fact that you look like a raccoon because your eye makeup ended up on your face instead? I'm sorry, but you have to admit you do look funny."

Prentiss was annoyed for a split second, then really looked at herself in the tiny mirror. "You know, it's okay. I totally do." Although it was something stupid, they all started laughing; she hadn't laughed or even really smiled in ages. It felt good.

Meanwhile, JJ paced around her tiny room, waiting for Prentiss to get back. Her friend wouldn't know it, but she liked her, and wanted her to feel beautiful, to like herself again. So while Prentiss was gone, JJ had left and snuck back with a single long-stemmed white rose with the tips of its petals a deep red, and a bar of Prentiss's favorite chocolate. She'd then carefully written, "you're beautiful, feel better soon" on a little card, disguising her handwriting, and left the whole thing just outside Prentiss's door.

Not ten minutes later, the dark-haired girl knocked on JJ's door holding the gifts. "Thank you, JJ."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the blond lied. "You must have a secret admirer." They playfully argued a little bit, until JJ admitted that yes, it was her after all.

"You know I love you, right?" JJ then said seriously. "That's why I sent that stuff. Why I've always been there for you."

"I know," Prentiss replied. A rare smile crossed her face.

"Can I tell you something?" the blond said nervously.

"Sure, you've put up with me enough lately. Tell me anything."

JJ shifted her weight around on the bed they were both sitting on, and nervously played with a lock of her hair. "I mean, I know since you're bi it won't be a big deal to you, but I'm still nervous…Emily, I'm a lesbian."

"It's okay," Prentiss assured her. "I don't care. And if anyone gives you crap, I'll do my best to protect you, just like you did for me. You be who you are, and be proud, okay?" She hugged her friend.

"I knew you wouldn't have a problem with that. But there's something else I want to say- I haven't said anything for so long, and however you react, I hope what I'm going to tell you doesn't change our friendship."

"It won't, I swear. I'd never want to lose you as a friend, no matter what!" Prentiss said firmly. "Just spit it out. Are you into S & M? Have you slept with every girl on your floor? None of that will change how I see you."

"Actually, this just might," JJ said softly. "It's nothing like that, it's…Emily, I _love _you."

Prentiss sat in shock for a few seconds; they felt like hours to JJ. Finally, she said "You do? Really?"

"I've had a crush on you ever since we first met," JJ admitted. "I know now isn't the best time to be telling you this, and you probably don't want a relationship now- hell, I'm deluding myself to think that you might want me as more than a friend- but I felt like if I didn't say something right now, today, my head would explode. We can still be friends, just like always, I-"

"Wait." Prentiss cut her off. "I-I like you, at least. I've noticed you, had feelings for you, since spring semester sophomore year. We could…could, if you wanted…it just can't wreck our friendship." She took JJ's hand. "Actually, thanks for this. After I went and got my head shrunk today, I really feel on edge and want to cut. In the face of that, and my mom practically disowning me, it's the best thing ever to know that someone loves me. You do." For some reason, she started crying all over again. Odd, because she normally never did.

"I'll hold you until you feel better," JJ offered. Prentiss folded her long body into her friend's arms, and they lay down together until she finally stopped crying. And though she hadn't imagined her first kiss with a girl to happen with her eyes all red and the last tears still tracking down her cheeks, that's how it happened. One really couldn't say who had kissed who; it was more that they both slowly, hesitantly moved towards each other until they made contact. It was salty- some tears had gotten into Prentiss's mouth- but at the same time, sweet, and not at all sloppy.

That night, Prentiss didn't think about hurting herself for the longest stretch of time since she was a college freshman- four or five hours. She drifted off to sleep easily for once, rather than lying awake with nothing but the feelings to keep her company.

**(A/N: Realistic? Accurate? What do you think of Prentiss and JJ as a couple?)**HHHHg HHou YOTYOuYhtYOuYOYyoYosjzk


	8. Sticking With You

**(A/N: The new title is a reference to the musical "Rent"- the piece with the AIDS support group. They're asking "Will someone care? Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?" in the song. I got that idea, because her friends' actions answer those questions for Prentiss. I know you guys like my Prentiss/JJ as a couple thing, but I'm not the type to get graphic with it, and anyway, they will move very slowly. Please review!)**

Prentiss and JJ lay drowsily next to each other on JJ's bed, not wanting to get up, and still stunned at the fact that they had kissed. Something occurred to the blond. "Thanksgiving's coming up, can you go home for it? I remember on Monday, you were fighting with your mom, quite badly, over the phone. Do you want to go home, then? Would she let you? Because you know that the dorms close at seven that Wednesday evening, you can't stay."

"She told me I can't come home again because of being bi. I don't know where I'm going to go. Might stay and keep Reid and Garcia company; neither of them really has anything to go back to either. Or, you know, I could just find a nice cardboard box for those four days." Prentiss said, trying to joke.

"If there's one thing you won't be doing, it's living in a box!" JJ protested. "And you shouldn't have to be alone for the holiday just because your mom is a homophobic bitch! We'll figure something out for you, so you're never alone like that, even if you can't be with your family anymore. Our weird little group- we can be your family instead. And it's even more special that way, because we chose each other. We weren't just born into it. You'll see. Things will work out. I bet you won't even miss your parents much."

That was halfway true; Prentiss was almost relieved that her mother wasn't talking to her any longer; it meant she wasn't yelling at her. But she felt a pang of pain for her father. Although after a long marriage to her mother, he was so completely under her thumb that he had stopped standing up for Prentiss when her mom mistreated her, she knew he loved her anyway.

_Flash_. Little Emily, now about ten, was lying miserably in her room after getting screamed at for another B in math. She sighed with relief, but was too depressed to get up, upon hearing one car leave their driveway and another arrive. Hearing large feet pad up the stairs, she perked up a little. Dad. At least he wouldn't yell at her.

He knocked before entering- her mom never did that- and came in and sat on the bed. "Emily," he said quietly. She was unsure; it was almost like she didn't know how to handle someone being nice to her any more. "I know you got a B in math, and that Mom yelled at you and punished you for it. I'm sorry. I wish I could get her to stop doing that. Anyway, listen to me, all right?"

Emily nodded. "The rest were all A's. I think you did great," he said. "Just do your best. It's unfair of your mom to ask for more than that. You _are_ smart. Here, I brought you something, only don't let her see." Her dad tossed two bags of her favorite candy- one regular, one sour- tied together with a blue ribbon, on the bed. "Put them in your lunch or something, take them to school. Because you know the rule around here."

"No junk food."

"Right, but that's not my rule. God, can't you have a little fun in life?" Emily nodded again, smiled a little, and hesitantly hugged him.

There had been other times, other bags of her favorite candy, sometimes a little extra cash, a privilege, or even a hug. Prentiss's dad, while refusing to openly defy her mother's regime of austerity and expectations of perfection, had done so in some small ways. Just enough to assure the girl that someone did love her. Eventually, he was the only person that could coax a few words out of her, during the time that she barely talked. But only when they were alone.

"Earth to Emily," JJ said, stroking her hair. "I said, I'll ask my family if you can come and have Thanksgiving with me."

"Sorry," Prentiss mumbled. "I was just thinking about my dad- if I'll still be able to see him now that I can't come home. He loved me, even if _she_ doesn't want me any longer. I don't think she ever did."

JJ didn't know what to say; she knew Prentiss didn't get along with her mom, but not that she felt totally unloved. This actually explained a lot; if she was abusive, this explained her friend's hesitance to be affectionate, (she even used to flinch when JJ touched her, and still would with people she didn't know well,) her shyness, her careful, cautious demeanor around everyone as if she was afraid of doing even the tiniest thing wrong, the stamp of hurt in her eyes that could never be erased, no matter how happy she was in the moment.

"Did she…hurt you?" JJ ventured.

"Yes. No. I don't know," Prentiss said, confused. "She never hit me."

"But I heard her, I know she yells at you." The dark-haired girl nodded. "A lot," JJ continued. "That's emotional abuse."

Prentiss said nothing, closely examining the comforter to avoid looking. "Let's talk about something else," she finally said. "Thanks for inviting me to spend Thanksgiving with you. That would be great."

Saturday night, again. Everyone was going to go out for dinner- it was Prentiss's favorite restaurant, a tiny Greek hole in the wall. She walked to JJ's room to get her, smiling. Earlier that day, the hurt of her mother disowning her like that, the idea that she would maybe never see her father again either, had hit her all over again, and her mind rebelled against letting her face emotional pain. It wanted so badly to transmute that to the physical realm, but she hadn't let that happen. She still had the list of alternatives that Reid had drawn up for her, and, quickly scanning it, had found one that sounded silly, but ended up working. Write a letter to the person or thing hurting you. Say whatever you want- only don't mail it. Truth be told, that letter was mostly swear words, all the things Prentiss wanted to scream at her mom but had restrained herself from doing so, but what mattered is that she got through it and felt better now.

"Okay, let's go," JJ said, hugging her as she answered her door. "You look happy, what's the occasion?"

"It's…see, earlier today, I was really feeling bad again because of what my mom did, I felt like I wanted, needed to…you know. But I still have that list-thing Reid gave me, and so I did something different instead. It might not seem like it, JJ, but I really do want to stop. Do you think I want to be a giant mass of scars forever?"

JJ smiled a little. "I'm sure it's not _that_ bad. I'm so proud of you, though! Just never, ever, ever give up. You should have gotten me right away!"

"You were busy, sweetheart. Besides, let's be realistic. You can't be with me every second. I need to learn to deal with those feelings on my own."

"I guess so. But if you can't deal with them, you need to get me, find me somehow. You can't be impenetrably strong and fly solo all the time. Even Superman has a sidekick." JJ said.

Prentiss felt good; her sense of humor seemed to be back for the day. "Beep! Beep! Beep! Corniness alert! Repeat- the levels of corniness are at dangerous levels here!" she joked. For some reason, that bad joke cracked them both up until they were laughing so much they were crying. Prentiss had never cried from laughing before in her life.

A short while later, as JJ and Prentiss entered the restaurant, JJ whispered, "Should we tell them about, you know, us?"

Prentiss smiled. "Definitely. They've all been so worried about me. I want to give them some good news."

They waited for everyone to come in and sit down. "Do you want to say it, or should I?" JJ whispered.

"You. I'm not good at making speeches." Prentiss responded. They were holding hands under the table.

JJ clinked her glass with her fork to get the attention of their now-raucous table. Hotchner and Morgan were involved in a heated debate over which professor was best to take for a statistics course needed for both their majors, and Garcia and Reid were arguing playfully, shoving each other. "Before you stuff your faces with lamb and baklava, Emily and I have an announcement. Well, actually, I have one, and then we have one for both of us."

"Don't leave us hanging!" Garcia protested when she paused.

"Okay then. The first part is that-" JJ swallowed a nervous lump in her throat that she knew had no reason to be there- "I'm a lesbian. Which leads into announcement number two…drumroll, please…Emily and I are, well, together."

"Shut up!" Garcia said happily.

"You and Emily, really? You're a damn fine couple!" Morgan exclaimed.

Hotchner reached across the table, nearly knocking over some platters, to shake their hands. "Congratulations!"

Reid didn't say anything about it until after the dinner was over; he went back towards the dorm and waited for Prentiss to leave for a minute so he could talk to JJ on his own. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, fidgeting.

"JJ, I'm really happy you two are dating. Only be careful. You're going to have to be really willing to stick with Emily, help her, no matter what. Because if you left, if you broke her heart, she'd just go right back to where she started, or worse. And you break her heart- I break your face." Reid said quietly. His seriousness belied the fact that he was smaller and lighter, not to mention three years younger, than both JJ and Emily, and had always been the target, not the bully.

"I'm not going to leave. I've loved her since the moment I first saw her. There is absolutely nothing in the world, nothing she could do, that would make me leave her. I thought if we got together, if she knew someone loved her, she'd feel better. And I intend to stick with her. Really, Reid, I'm touched. But don't worry. She doesn't need protecting from me." JJ said fiercely, eyes alight with a new fire, a new love.

**(A/N: I do apologize for the corniness of this chapter! And isn't Reid cute? Please R & R!)**


	9. The Heart is a Bloom

Prentiss and JJ were sitting together in Prentiss's room, flipping through channels on a lazy Monday evening and taking advantage of both of their roommates being gone. This didn't mean sex, though- Prentiss thought she would never be able to get to that point, even with someone she loved. How could JJ find her attractive, when under her clothes, she appeared to have been attacked by a saber-toothed tiger who raked its claws over every inch of her? She wasn't ready to even let her closest friend, her girlfriend, see what she had done to herself. While it was annoying, and often hot, to cover up all the time, to have to select clothes based on whether or not they would hide her scars, she couldn't stand to have anyone see. Everyone would stare, whisper, know _what_ she was. A monster. And the thought of purposely showing someone, even JJ, sent her into a mini-panic.

But she knew JJ would respect her. Right now, they were just sitting on the couch, JJ's arm around her, her hand sometimes rubbing her neck, her shoulders, as they tried to alleviate their boredom. Prentiss wondered when she would be able to say "I love you," or even if she truly did romantically _love_ JJ at this point, real love. Saying that opened her up to the possibility of so much hurt in her eyes; after all, her mom had claimed to love her, yet constantly screamed at her, and the people in the past who had claimed to be her friends were actually bullies, pretending to like, to love, her, then stabbing her in the back. Prentiss would wait to say it until she was sure it was true, she really meant it. Hopefully JJ could be patient.

A knock at the door interrupted the two's happy haze. They jumped away from each other like they had been burned; they didn't want anyone outside of their friends finding out they were together yet. The last thing Prentiss needed was more drama. JJ reluctantly got up to open it, and when she did, a confused happiness filled Prentiss's face.

"Dad?"

"I had to see you, Emily," he said. "I don't care what your mom says. I usually let her deal with you how she wanted, never stood up for you, to try and save my marriage. But this time, she's gone too far. She might say you can't come home again and tell me not to see you, but I will anyway." He smiled. "I told her one of my clients had an emergency and needed their social worker right away."

"I thought I'd never get to see you again, either. This means a lot," Prentiss said softly.

Thinking Prentiss didn't want her to hear details about her family life, JJ got up to leave, but Mr. Prentiss said "JJ, you don't have to leave- I know you two are good friends, and I was going to take Emily out to eat while I'm here. Looks like she could use it. Do you want to come with?"

Prentiss insisted on that, and she let JJ pick the restaurant, since they had gone to her favorite a few nights ago. JJ liked Asian food best of all, and over pad Thai, stir fry, and sake, Prentiss got the courage to speak up. "Dad, JJ…well, you know I can't come home again because I'm bi. We're, well….dating," she said nervously, barely able to control a stammer in her voice.

"That's great! Am I going to have a new daughter-in-law anytime soon?" he asked half-jokingly.

"Maybe someday," Prentiss smiled a little.

"Look," her dad said clumsily. "No matter who you date or…if you're a switch hitter…if you get a B…end up with a girl, or a guy, I'll still be okay with it. I love you no matter what. And JJ's a good choice."

At the end of the meal, he passed an envelope across the table. "There's a check in here that should cover the next three semesters of tuition, along with enough cash to cover your personal expenses up through spring semester. Your mother had a special account for your college money, and since she flipped out at you, I figured she might not finance you any more, so I emptied the account before she could get to it, and the cash is a gift from me. I'll still take care of you. Don't worry. Do you think I'd let you drop out of school or go hungry?"

Prentiss grinned widely and walked around the table to hug him. "Come see me again, okay?" she asked. "Whenever you can get away."

"I will. Do you have somewhere to go for the holidays? I'll come see you, but…" he trailed off.

"She'll be with me," JJ explained. "I talked to my family- they're okay with me liking girls- and told them that Emily can't come home, and why. They said any time there's a holiday, or she just wants to get away, she has a place with us."

JJ had worked that out with them yesterday; her mother had insisted on talking to Prentiss and telling her to be strong and that she'd have a home with them. She had nearly cried, but they would have been happy tears at their kindness.

The rest of the week slipped quickly by; Prentiss felt much better this week than the last several, only cutting once, and it was minor. Now that she had JJ, had a sense of security, and didn't have to worry about money, it was so much easier to fight, to try an alternative whenever the urge hit. Not that this fight was easy. Before she knew it, it was Friday again, and she was ascending the stairs to Dr. Lake's office again. Her heart still pounded, nerves still jangled, but this time, it was a bit easier, like her situation was. Easier to bear, bit by bit.

"Emily, how are you feeling this week?" the doctor asked.

"This week is better than the last, that's for sure. I started dating someone- my friend JJ- Jennifer-, actually. And all my friends have been really helpful lately. Plus I saw my dad. He's not going along with my mom's idea of disowning me. It's…easier to fight now. Because I do want to stop."

"That's great that you have some support. Do you mean that you want to stop cutting yourself?" Dr. Lake asked. Prentiss nodded. "That's something we'll work on, then. We'll see how your thinking might be feeding into the self-harm and change those thoughts, and look at coping mechanisms and how to make your life easier, reduce stress, so you can get better. Now, I've reviewed the questions I had you answer last time, and I think I might have…well, not answers for you, it's not my job to give you them, but more of an idea of where you're standing now."

Prentiss shrugged. "Okay. What do you think?"

"Emily," Dr. Lake said gently, showing her the paperwork. "You're severely depressed right now, and although your anxiety isn't enough to be a full-blown disorder, I can see that it's a problem for you, too. I'm going to take a wild guess and say that you use self-harm as a way to cope with these things, because it does somehow mitigate negative feelings."

Prentiss swallowed a lump in her throat, nodded again, tried to collect herself- why did she feel like crying? "There's more pain, way more, inside me, than what I create. If I face it, I think I'd die. When I…cut, I don't have to deal with the inner pain."

Silence. It made Prentiss uncomfortable, just sitting there. She felt the need to fill the chasm. "I'm still skeptical, though. I've been sad, if not depressed, for most of my life, and I was always on edge. And I was seven, _seven_ when I started self-harming. That's…thirteen years, with very little time when I wasn't doing it. I'm not sure you can fix me."

"I'm not going to. We'll work together, but in the end, you have to fix yourself. But if you'll do that, there's no reason why you can't get better. And I promise you won't die from facing the pain."

Later that day, JJ and Prentiss were doing homework in JJ's room. JJ wanted to watch her, because she'd admitted that she felt terrible for some reason, the need to cut like a caged beast inside her. She'd turned to homework, both as a distraction and because the work just continued to pile onto her, instead. But in the middle of a chapter on the structure of U.S. judicial power, she found herself laying down the book and crying for no discernable reason. This scared Prentiss a little; she wasn't in control. It was like she was someone else.

"Emily?" JJ asked. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "Really I don't. I'm sorry."

"If you apologize for your feelings again, I'll smack you!" JJ tried to tease. "It's okay to cry. Seriously. Even if you don't know what's wrong."

JJ's support made Prentiss think of something. If she wasn't going to die at facing the walled-in pain in her heart, her head, could she bring down those walls, even for a little bit? Almost as soon as she made the conscious decision to do so, pain flooded her, like so many East Germans climbing over the barbed wire and stone that split Berlin.

"JJ, it hurts," she choked. "I said…die if I face the inner pain…I can't keep it in me now." She could barely get the words out due to the intensity of her sobs. No one had ever seen her cry like this.

"You're not going to die," the blond assured her, guiding her to lie down, holding her tightly. "It's okay. Cry. You'll feel better." Prentiss was sobbing so hard the force shook her whole body; JJ could barely hold her still.

"I know it hurts. But you'll get through everything," JJ said. Her friend cried for so long that JJ gave up trying to talk to her, and just held her, stroking her hair. Finally, the flood slowed to a drizzle, and JJ smiled.

"See, you're not dead, are you?" she joked, kissing Prentiss's forehead. "And before you try to apologize for this- because I know you will- remember that this was what I meant when I said you could come to me for anything. Even if "anything" is hours of incoherent crying. Do you feel better now?"

"Oddly, yes," Prentiss sniffled. "I don't feel like hurting myself at all any more. I don't know why, I just don't." The pain inside her had gone from a roar to a whimper; barely even strong enough to notice, let alone necessitating creating physical pain because the other pain was that huge, that overwhelming.

It had been almost four days since Prentiss last cut. If you had told her that she would make it even that long without it, at the beginning of this school year, she wouldn't have believed you. And a new emotion, stronger now, poked its way out from between the hurt, sadness, and anxiety, started to flower. Hope. She thought of the blades in her bag, was surprised to find herself considering throwing them all out, starting over, going cold turkey. Perhaps that "someday" that she had told herself she would do that was closer than she had thought.

**(A/N: Sorry if this gets boring, the "middle" is hard to write for. I have some good ideas for future chapters, though; there will be a CM team Christmas chapter, and a conclusion where Emily does throw those things out, and a nice epilogue. Stupid middle! Why must you be so hard to write? Please R & R!)**


	10. Prodigal

**(A/N: This is not one of my better chapters. Like I said, the middle of stories is hard to right. And flame all you want for the religion here, but I'm a Christian, and what Prentiss deals with in trying to reconcile what she's done with what she believes is something I've struggled a lot with. As always, I don't endorse self-harm, read the story at your own risk if you do or have done it. Can be triggering, though I try to keep that stuff to a minimum.)**

No one paid attention in class that week, well, except Reid because knowledge was all he ever wanted, and Prentiss because she felt she needed to keep up her "perfect" image, because Thanksgiving break began on Thursday. Some classes were cancelled, and no one got very much done. "Reid, what are you doing over break?" Prentiss asked him when they were grabbing a coffee on Tuesday.

Reid knew what he'd be doing, of course. No celebration, no Thanksgiving tradition of stuffing himself. All he would be doing is taking care of his mother and catching up on coursework. He loved her, but sometimes, though he didn't even like to admit it to himself, he wished she…wasn't around any more, so he wouldn't have the responsibility that often felt like a crushing weight on his shoulders. He ached for a normal life. But Prentiss didn't know about that. "Um, nothing I guess," he mumbled. "I'm just going to stick around here and see my mom, she hasn't been feeling well lately. And maybe I'll hang out with Penelope."

Prentiss texted Garcia as well, asking her the same question- she knew full well Garcia didn't have plans. She had no family that she knew of and had been hacking and working on computers to support herself since she finished elementary school. Later that day, Prentiss talked to JJ, who worked things out. She would stay with JJ for the entire break, and Reid would carpool with Garcia to be at JJ's on Thanksgiving Day. She breathed a sigh of relief once everything fell into place. No one, least of all her friends, should have to spend a holiday alone.

Wednesday afternoon. Prentiss's classes were over, but JJ had one more to go. They would be leaving later that evening. She started to feel like cutting again, without knowing why, but forced herself to go for a walk, texting JJ about it. They would deal with it together once her class was over. Prentiss left the campus, just moving through the cold air, the freezing wind on her face grounding her. Keeping her from retreating too much into her own head. But she was still lost in thought enough to not really be aware of where her feet were taking her. The question pounding through her head was stark. Prentiss realized the full impact of what she was doing by now, realized, felt it was very wrong. Not to mention the impact on herself. She had used to, before this semester and, well, everything, started and her self-harm got far worse, go to a church near the school almost every week. She had always found comfort in the thought that God loved her, even if her mother didn't, but now she was thinking _Does he, still? Am I too bad to save? Where did I go wrong?_

Prentiss didn't get back out from her thoughts until, to her great surprise, she found herself opening the door of the church. Guilt hit her the second she entered, and she slipped into the very back of the sanctuary, perhaps wanting to- what? Pray? But she couldn't dispel the feeling that she didn't belong. The shame. She sat down and stared at the floor, lost, trying to make sense of things. After- she didn't know how long- she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Emily, right? Are you okay, honey?" She flinched at the touch, though on some level she knew the person only meant to comfort her. Looking up, she saw her favorite pastor, a forty-ish woman named Marie with flaming red hair, dressed not in what she would wear when presiding, but normal clothes. "I wasn't going to hit you. What's wrong?" she asked.

Prentiss chewed on her lip, kept looking down, and just shrugged. "If you talk about it, I can see if I can help, or pray for you," the pastor gently prodded.

"I'm not sure if God loves me," Prentiss said hesitantly. "I feel like I don't belong in church. Don't deserve to be there." _Wait, did I just say all that? _she thought. But something her therapist had said, that she shouldn't be afraid to look for support, also seemed to stick in her head.

"Why not? You're very smart and have been going to church for most of your life, you've definitely heard by now that God loves everyone. No matter what they're like or what they've done."

"I've heard. I just am probably too bad for that love. God doesn't want someone like me," Prentiss said.

"There's absolutely nothing you could do that would make you too bad for God. Besides, you're only 20 years old, you can't have done anything too terrible yet- I can't see you murdering anyone," Marie said, trying to joke.

Prentiss was filled with sudden smoking anger. She couldn't figure out why. "Trust me, God doesn't want this," she snapped, on impulse rolling up her sleeve and revealing several scars. There was a long pause. Prentiss didn't look up, thinking she'd see disgust or fear on the pastor's face. "That's why I haven't been coming to church or anything," Prentiss finally said.

"I know it's hard to see it right now, but no matter what you did- this, too- he still loves you. And doesn't want you hurting. Do you have anyone helping you now? Does anyone know about this?" Marie asked.

"I have a shrink and my friends know. That helps but…I still think God most likely hates me." Prentiss bit her tongue and made a conscious effort to force back tears. Why was she crying so easily all of a sudden?

"That's a load of crap, and you'll see it eventually. I'm sure you've heard about the prodigal son, right? That story applies to you, too. And that son didn't just hurt himself- he spent his inheritance on every kind of vice there is. But then he decided to come back to his family, his home. He's in disgrace and thinks he can never be forgiven. But instead of being made a servant, the father throws a huge party for him and forgives everything. He runs to his son when he's still far off, and never stopped looking for him to come back and loving him. You're in that same situation- the father's a symbol for God, you know. And all you have to do is come home. Not even come home- just start on the path, and then God will come running up to you. Because guess what? He still loves you. You're not a bad person- just broken. And you can have as many second chances with him as you need."

Prentiss shrugged. "I'm not sure." _Dammit, Emily, don't cry!_ she thought viciously as she started to tear up.

"I hope and pray you'll be able to see that love soon. Because that's the truth. You just have to come home and accept it."

An hour later, JJ and Prentiss were stuffing their things into JJ's parents' car. "Do you feel better now?" JJ asked the dark-haired girl in an undertone.

Prentiss nodded. "I do. I went for a long walk, then ended up in that church I went to last year. I'm sorry if I worried you. But you won't always be there- so I have to learn. Today's day four."

JJ smiled and spontaneously dropped her bag to hug Prentiss. "You can do this."

"Emily, I'm sorry about your parents," JJ's mother said sympathetically as the overloaded car left the college campus. "Gay, straight, or bi, you'll always have a place with us you can come back to."

_Even if I'm dating your daughter? _Prentiss thought.

Prentiss and JJ had hoped to be able to share a room, or better yet, a bed, but JJ's family had a large house, so Prentiss ended up in a guest room. But not long after going to sleep, she was awoken by an unsettling dream where she found herself alone forever in a wasteland, surrounded by darkness, nothingness. The feeling of being alone only intensified because she was alone in the room, the bed.

Quietly, so as not to wake anyone, Prentiss slipped out of the bed and, cracking the door to JJ's room, snuck in. She carefully shook the blond awake. "JJ, I feel so alone," she half-begged. "Can I sleep by you tonight?"

JJ sighed, then relented. "My parents don't know we're together yet. So just be out of here before they get up."

"Okay, no problem," Prentiss agreed. She lay down next to JJ, who spooned her friend's still too-skinny body, wrapping her arms protectively around her. _If only it were that easy to protect you from yourself, love_ she thought.

The girls, however, found themselves so exhausted from the late nights and lack of sleep that college demanded of them, that they woke up not before everyone else, but only because JJ's father had knocked on the door. And, getting no response, he had then come in. It was a few seconds before he realized what he saw. "JJ, your mother says get up, she needs your help making the- oh. Um…."

**(A/N: Sorry for the short chapter and not updating; writer's block. How's this for a cliffhanger?)**


	11. Family

**(A/N: Chapter may be triggering, please use caution. I don't endorse self-harm! I think I'd die if I found out my writing gave someone the idea to start.)**

JJ took one look at Prentiss's face and knew she would have to handle this. Prentiss had immediately tensed up, lying stiffly in her arms, and a nanosecond of absolute terror flashed across the dark-haired girl's face before she could hide it. "I can explain, please, Dad…" JJ said hastily.

"Explain what? That you're sleeping together under my roof?" he said, raising his voice. It was nowhere near like an all-out screaming fight volume, but JJ could feel the fear rolling off Prentiss in waves. Just because someone was being loud. JJ guessed she was hyper-sensitive to how people sounded, their emotions, so that she could sense when her mother was getting angry and try to get out of the way or deflect it.

"Don't yell," JJ said quickly. "We can talk about this, and you can be mad at me. But please don't yell. Or get mad at Emily. It's my fault she's here anyway. I had a bad dream last night and made her come sleep in my bed so I wouldn't feel alone. We didn't do anything." Prentiss looked at the blond in amazement; someone was taking the fall, getting in trouble, for her. It always seemed to be the other way around; Prentiss's mother, and all of the people who hurt her, always blamed her for everything.

JJ's father took a deep breath, then spoke softly, but with a lot of force behind each word, as if he wanted to be loud, but forced himself not to be. "Get dressed and come downstairs, and we'll see what your mother has to say about this. Emily, you can stay in bed a while longer. In the one in the guest room. You look really tired." She was, but she wasn't going to throw JJ into this kind of a situation alone.

"I'm facing them with you," Prentiss said firmly, after he had left.

"But, sweetie, I don't want to…if there's any conflict or stress…you might feel bad, I can't expose you to it if I can avoid doing so. Go back to sleep," JJ protested.

"JJ. Do I have to explain this like you're five years old? People who love each other don't let the person be alone when things are hard. Besides, you've helped me so much..." Prentiss trailed off.

Prentiss won out, and twenty minutes later, they stood nervously in the kitchen while JJ's father explained what he had seen of them. "What do you think?" he asked her mother, hoping, Prentiss thought, for an excuse to chew them out.

JJ's mother was distracted, elbow-deep in the turkey and with several pots cooking at once on the stove; every burner was occupied. When she turned from the counter to face them, they saw a smear of flour streaked across her forehead. "Girls, I don't care…what your sexuality is, or even that you date each other. But, if you're going to have Emily stay here with us, then you shouldn't be sharing a bed or have too much time alone together. Call me old-fashioned, but…there have to be some rules."

"We're sorry," Prentiss blurted. "It won't happen again. I'm sorry you had to find out like this, Mr. and Mrs. Jareau."

Mrs. Jareau directed her next volley of words at her husband. "There's no need to get angry with them. What's done is done, and we can trust them to follow the rules now. Yelling wouldn't undo what happened. Now, Emily, JJ, I need all the help I can get in the kitchen here."

_Thank you,_ Prentiss thought to herself. She just became irrationally, terribly, completely afraid whenever someone yelled at her; it was almost like she subconsciously expected blows, not just words. Her phone buzzed in her pocket with a text from Reid _Penelope and I will be there right around noon. Tell Mrs. Jareau thanks._

"Did you know the turkey, not the bald eagle, almost became the national bird? Benjamin Franklin said it was the best choice, but Washington wanted the eagle," Reid said as they walked in the door. Prentiss smiled- he never did stop spouting facts.

"I brought pie!" Garcia crowed. "Apple, and, er, coconut cream. Not exactly Thanksgiving fare, but it is my favorite. Spencer tried to help, but he got so distracted, telling me pie and cooking facts, that we ruined the first attempt." She playfully shoved Reid.

It wasn't a big Thanksgiving gathering; just JJ and her family, Prentiss, Reid, Garcia, and JJ's aunt. But Prentiss still thought it was the best holiday she remembered having; there wasn't any tension in the air, no raised voices, no snapping. JJ's felt like home. And she didn't feel so alone. _I have a family_, she thought, looking around at JJ and her friends. _Even if the one I started out with was, well…_None of them had seen her smile like that for ages.

But it didn't last. Towards the end of the meal, she thought about this unorthodox gathering, and something like grief, hurt hit her; hurt because she had never had a family like this. No one had helped her before. Prentiss wished she could invent a time machine, go back, and find and, well, rescue herself as a young child. She would, at least, value her.

She felt like she was going to cry, felt the urge to cut fill her; but, it seemed as though by not fulfilling that urge for even a few days, it was like an animal she hadn't fed. It got weaker. She sat through the rest of the meal, kept pretending, then afterwards, when everyone was doing the dishes and watching football, said she was going to take a nap.

As quickly as she could without running, she hurried up to the guest room, where she closed the door and took her razors out of her bag. She just sat, holding the box, thinking, for maybe half an hour. If she couldn't stop herself, she would at least put it off- the immediate "dealing" with her feelings by cutting. It was as if she wanted to prove she could handle them, for at least a little bit.

But eventually, Prentiss got to the point where she absolutely couldn't handle the emotional hurt any longer. Carefully, intending to at least limit the damage, she brought the blade down on her forearm. Not too much. Just enough to stop the feelings. In the middle of this, there was a timid knock at the door. "Emily," It was Reid. When she didn't respond, he said, "Okay then. I'm coming in. I just want to check on-"

He was speechless for a few seconds, then said, almost pleading, "Put it down, Emily." She hadn't wanted him to see her cutting, so she'd stopped as soon as she'd heard his knock, but she was still holding the blade. _Crap. I should have kicked it under the bed and rolled my sleeve back down_, one part of her thought. But another, smaller, voice in her told her these were her friends, she didn't need to pretend or hide. The pain in Reid's eyes was more than enough to make her put it down.

He sat down next to her on the bed. "Have you got any first-aid stuff? You need to take care of this."

"In my bag," Prentiss directed; her hands were full, what with one arm wounded and the other pressing a Kleenex to the cut. Then she realized; he would also see her blades there. "Spencer, wait…I'll…" But he had already found her supplies, and the two boxes of more blades.

"Here, move your hand away. Let's fix this." Prentiss could have taken care of the cut herself, but Reid seemed insistent, and though she didn't want to admit it, it felt good to have someone taking care of her. He matter-of-factly cleaned and bandaged her, his thin, almost delicate hands gentle, not speaking until he was done. Only after that did he ask "What's wrong? Do you know what set you off?" Reid picked up one of the boxes, turning it over in his hands. Prentiss felt vaguely violated; he was in her inner life, her worst secret. "I don't suppose throwing these out would help," he mused.

Prentiss shook her head. "I'd just go get more, or improvise and use something that wasn't clean or could do worse damage. But, I've thought about throwing them out. Not now. But sometime. I promise you I will eventually. Then I'll stop." A chill went up her spine; did she really just do that, promise to stop the one thing that made her life bearable? But, of course, it also ruined her. "I'm not totally sure why I felt bad and did this, but…I never had a family like this, had a good holiday. It hurts to think that no one helped me, no one loved me, for so long. I want to go back and rescue little me. That makes no sense. And now I'm crying again," she sniffled.

"That's okay. You know you're loved now, you have us. We'll help. Can I hug you?" Reid said gently.

Prentiss shrugged. "Okay." And though Reid was shorter and smaller than her, he tried to hold her as she cried. She did so for some time, but for nowhere near as long as that night when she flipped out at Morgan's party. He didn't say anything, but after she was done, Reid asked, "Okay?"

She nodded. "You're loved now. You have awesome people who'll help you now," he reminded her. "Try not to dwell on the past."

Prentiss did feel much better; she wasn't sure if it was because she had cut, or because Reid had been there for her. _Maybe Spencer_, she thought. Cutting only gave her a short high, a temporary calm. Not this deeper feeling of being better, calmer. She washed her face to erase the tears, then went back downstairs to join the party, cuddling up to JJ. The blond's warmth, her arm around her shoulder, the smell of her hair product and perfume, comforted Prentiss better than anything else. And despite what she'd just done, she had her love. And had hope.

**(A/N: Aww, poor Reid! Am I the only one who thinks he's too young to deal with his mom's schizophrenia, let alone helping Prentiss? Please R & R, and thanks to everyone who reviewed/story alerted/favorited!)**


	12. Rings

**(A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates- my granddad was in the hospital and it was hard on me since I'm closer to my grandparents than my parents. Note the time jump in this chapter- now it's December 7****th****-ish)**

At the beginning of the second week after break, Prentiss took notes in her First Amendment constitutional law class, taking notes as rapidly as she could while struggling to stay awake. She'd seen Dr. Lake once more, and would also go in again in two more days. Between JJ doing her best to help her, and a fierce determination to stop cutting at all costs, she hadn't done so in a week. But the previous night, the feelings, the need to, were so strong, so constant that she couldn't sleep; instead, she had been up all night battling them. JJ had told her that she could miss her morning classes today on account of her not having any sleep; Prentiss's professors all liked her, and her attendance record was almost perfect. But Prentiss had refused, dragging herself off to this morning class. She couldn't let on to anyone except her friends and her doctor that anything was wrong. And sometimes she even wondered if it was a wise decision to tell the people that she had.

Finals were coming up; their school would let out just before Christmas and resume January 15th with a new semester. Prentiss saw a glimmer of hope for the next semester; she was moving out of the dorms. The subleaser with whom Garcia was sharing her two-bedroom apartment was going to leave to study abroad in England, and so Garcia had asked Prentiss to live with her. It took a lot of persuading and Garcia-persistence to make the campus life office break JJ's housing contract for the dorm in the middle of the school year, but they had managed it. Soon, Prentiss would no longer be bullied in the one place, her room, her building, that she was supposed to be able to call home.

The dark-haired girl must have drifted off sitting up. The next thing she knew, her professor was making his closing remarks about the cases they had covered that day. She needed to ask about the last test before the final exam in this class, and also find a way to surreptitiously get him to talk about what was covered today without letting on that she had fallen asleep. Knowing that the professor, Dr. Bigel's, office hours began directly after this class ended, she followed him up to his small office crammed with books and legal case files, saying she had questions.

He answered her questions about the test, then she asked "Could you just recap what you covered today, because…?"

Dr. Bigel cut her off. "You fell asleep. I know. You're normally attentive in my class, so I'll let it go. Everyone gets tired sometimes." He shifted his tall, creaking body in his desk chair and cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm not mad at you for sleeping. You look like you pulled an all-nighter last night. Are…things, life going all right for you? The past month or two, you've looked more tired in class, and you don't volunteer answers or come discuss cases with me anywhere near as often as you did at the start of the semester. Don't worry about your grade- you're still getting an A, but…"

Prentiss couldn't stop her face flaming from shame and embarrassment. Someone could tell that she wasn't all right. She wasn't as good at hiding her pain as she thought. As if to spare her scrutiny, the professor was now picking a piece of lint off of his five-hundred-dollar tailored suit from New York City. Prentiss liked that he always dressed so well, like he was walking into a courtroom every day. Absently, she saw he was wearing blue today. Navy suit, blue cufflinks, blue silk handkerchief in his pockets. Everything always matched, and he was always together, unlike herself. _Think, Emily,_ she said to herself. _You'll be wanting him to write you law school recommendations. He won't recommend if he finds out you're nuts._

"I appreciate your concern, Dr. B. But nothing's wrong. I just feel a little down sometimes." That was the most she'd let herself admit.

He could tell that there was more to this than what she was telling him, but decided to let the matter rest. "All right. But, Emily, if you need me to give you more time on an assignment, or let you take a test another time because, er…you're not doing well, that's fine. And you can talk to me, if you like."

"I don't need any special treatment. I'm fine," Prentiss said coldly, then immediately regretted how she sounded. "Thank you, though," she said more softly.

"I'll be showing a movie on Wednesday in class, and Friday is just reviewing what we've done already. Look, if you're too tired, stay home and sleep in. I won't mark you down. Now, on to what we did today…"

Prentiss took his offer, sleeping in on Wednesday and Friday. But, that week, after almost ten days of not cutting, she gave in again. Immediately after, she'd gone to JJ, crying in frustration at her inability to be strong. JJ assured her that she could stop, could get better, someday, but there were days when "someday" seemed very far off indeed.

On Saturday morning, Prentiss's phone rang while she was still asleep. She reached groggily out from under the blankets, hopelessly tangling herself and falling out of bed as she grabbed it. "Mflrg…Penelope, you woke me up…" she said upon seeing the caller ID.

Garcia sounded even more perky/hyper than usual; that attitude was unthinkable for Prentiss right after waking up. "Sorry, sweetie!" she said rapidly. "It's just that I was thinking of having our whole little group go Christmas shopping today before all the good stuff is gone! If you want to come, I'll pick you up in two hours, that should be enough time to wake yourself up and have breakfast. Spencer is being picked up too, and Derek and Aaron will meet us at the mall. Ask JJ if she can come! Ciao!"

At the appointed time, JJ and Prentiss crammed into the back seat of Garcia's car, a lime green VW bug. Reid was already in the front. "Um, excuse me for asking, but I don't believe the total volume of this car can hold all of us, plus all of our purchases, on the way back?" he said playfully. "Especially if you go on a shopping binge like you usually do."

"Don't worry about it! It'll work just like one of those clown-car things!" Garcia countered. "By the way, Spencer, you are not spending Christmas just helping your mom! I'm going to hang out with you and there will be a tree and food and presents and the whole…everything! That goes for you, too, Emily!" By now, Garcia knew that Reid's mother was mentally ill somehow, and that he had to do a lot of things to help her. And of course, Prentiss being disowned had already been hashed out by everyone- they'd ripped her mother up one side and down the other, Prentiss thought with a small smile.

They met Hotchner and Morgan at Starbucks, drinking strong, over-roasted coffee and blinking themselves fully awake. "What do you guys think of us having our own Christmas? All of us," Garcia asked. "Spencer and I were going to spend it together anyway, and the rest of you could, if you're spending it somewhere else, drive back here on the 26th or something for the day." It took a little time to discuss the details, but they all soon agreed on that plan. "Now, let the shopping commence!" Garcia announced. "Since we might be buying for each other, let's split up and text each other when we're done."

JJ left Prentiss's side for once, jokingly rebuking her when she tried to follow, so Prentiss slipped into the bookstore, where she bought Reid a few of the most difficult intellectual books she could find- philosophy and some classic literature- and an MC Escher poster. His apartment looked a little bare, she thought. She pawed through the CD racks afterwards, unaware that, a few stores down, JJ was making a certain, very meaningful purchase.

"These will be fine…I'm just looking for two plain gold bands, I don't have very much money. Those look nice- could they easily have stones set in them later?" JJ asked. The jeweler nodded.

"That's great. Do you know where I might send them to be engraved?"

He recommended a place, and she took the rings. They were plain, yes. But on Prentiss, even basic jewelry was beautiful.

After they had all regrouped and gone home, Prentiss finally decided to go back to church for the Saturday evening service; yes, she had talked to the pastor that one day she had just ended up there, but she hadn't had the courage to attend a service. She always felt guilty, like everyone was looking at her, knew what she had done. But those feelings were much less pronounced this time, and the pastor and all of the people she knew welcomed her right back. Prentiss thought _maybe there is something to the prodigal son story. And God can love me anyway. I'll try._

Later that night, while in JJ's room watching a movie, she and Prentiss started to kiss and run their hands over each other in the half-light from the TV. JJ really hoped that by now, the dark-haired girl could trust her enough, see that she'd understand, to maybe remove some of that clothing that artfully concealed her scars. Even taking off her sweater would be enough. As the heat built between them, JJ found it more difficult to hold herself back, to let Prentiss take all the initiative so that she wouldn't feel pushed or forced into a position where JJ would see her scars. The blond fumbled with Prentiss's top; at first, when she tried to tug it off, Prentiss seemed eager, not resisting. But suddenly, she mumbled, "JJ, stop…I can't…not yet. I love you, but…"

And then she was crying. JJ hastily backed off. "It's okay, sweetheart. We'll go as slow as you want. I'm sorry, I really am. I just lost control of myself for a second…I forgot…"

"I should be able to show you I love you!" Prentiss burst out. "But I can't even get past kissing! How is that being a good girlfriend? You've done so much for me and I can't even give you this…intimacy, this love!"

"I'll wait as long as you want. I'm never going to push you," JJ said patiently. "And if it's the scars you're worried about, you know I don't give a damn, right? But I can wait forever if you need me to. You…I never want anyone else. You're beautiful."

Prentiss protested, saying that, especially scarred, she was ugly, but JJ wouldn't budge, refusing to drop the subject until Prentiss said slowly, hesitantly, "I am beautiful."

**(A/N: You'll have to wait to see about the rings! Next chapter is a Criminal Minds Christmas! Sorry for the big time jumps, but I'm trying to finish this story before I go to Germany for a month, so I can't cover every day of their lives.)**


	13. Accident

**(A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates; college life and applying to law school and figuring out what to do between when I graduate in December and when I start law school in fall 2012. Argh. See, I have to work hard and figure something out so I don't have to live at home for those nine months, but my family won't help me financially if I'm not home. It takes up a lot of my time, but I'm really trying to figure something out since my mother is in many respects like Emily's. Some dialogue and situations in this chapter are taken verbatim/nearly so from my own experiences.)**

It was finals week, and Prentiss was cramming frantically in her dorm room while JJ was in the library finishing up her research paper. Finals were stressful for everyone, but especially Prentiss. She liked college fine, and schoolwork was easier now that she was away from her mother so no one was breathing down her neck, but still…she couldn't escape her internal critic.

_You're so stupid. You're going to fail at everything. School, life, relationships…you're going to failfailfailfailfail. You're worthless. No one likes you, no one loves you. You'll never be successful. You'll never get into grad school. You're a disappointment to your family and JJ and everyone else around you. You're a bad person- vermin inside, like that Kafka story. Life will always suck for you. You're an idiot, a freak. You'll always end up alone._

She couldn't escape the memories either. Being with JJ, someone who loved her and looked out for her, and having gotten to know a great group of friends and JJ's family, had shown her what love really was. What good relationships looked like. It threw the way she'd grown up, all those years she'd survived, into sharp contrast. Growing up, she had thought the way she was treated was normal, right. But now she saw that it never was. There was a sense of loss, of pain, for her childhood, for who she was, for all the pain she'd endured before she could escape or know any different.

_Emily was nine or ten; this had happened often enough that the years, the instances, had all seemed to blur together into one loud crack that reverberated in her through the intervening years, even now. Crack._

"_Emily," her mother said in a soft, cold tone, getting louder as she picked up steam. "Do you see this? Tell me what it is. I know you get A's in English, so don't play dumb with me. I know you can be excellent, so that's why you make me have to do this."_

_Emily was shaking in her favorite blue sweater. She knew what was coming, but despite that, she never stopped feeling terrified at the confrontation that came once or twice a week._

_When she got a B. Even on one assignment, not even a final grade._

_She knew it would be worse if she didn't answer, and she wanted to head off the yelling. Maybe she wouldn't yell today if she was just…good. Behaved. Promised to do better. That was what she hated the most. The words. _

A line from a song that had just come up on Prentiss's iTunes library caught her attention before she was lost in the memory again.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones/your words, they surely kill."

That was the truest thing she'd ever heard.

"_It's an 88 percent, Mom. I'm sorry, I thought I understood it-" she paused, swallowing painfully around the lump in her throat. "I promise I'll study more next time…I'll be better."_

"_You'd better be," Emily's mom snarled. "But that doesn't change this grade, does it?" She was yelling by now. Emily wanted to cover her ears. "That can't be undone. So I think you need to hear, again, that grades are important. This is serious business!"_

"_I'm sorry, please…" The girl bit her lip to keep from crying, tried to make herself remember a part from "Anna Karenina," which she'd just checked out from the library a few days ago. _

_Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. All was chaos and confusion in the Oblatsky household, for Stepan Arkedyich was discovered to have been carrying on an intrigue with the French governess…_

"_Come with me. You know what we're going to have to do," Emily's mother said. On trembling legs, she followed her mother up the stairs to the master bedroom and stood by her mother's desk by the window. In the desk, they both knew, was a ruler. Her mother got it out, and with her other hand, pulled the curtain shut so no one would see what she was doing. Keeping up appearances was very important._

_Emily knew that the ruler was only 12 inches; they all were, so they'd be useful for measuring things, but sometimes, it seemed in her mind like this one was as tall as she was._

"_Refresh my memory. What's the cutoff for an A in this class?" Emily's mother demanded. "And don't lie, because I can talk to your teachers. Do you remember last time you lied and told me the cutoff was lower than it actually was? I found out at conferences and had to give you double the next time."_

"_93 percent," Emily squeaked._

"_So that's five, then. Hopefully that's enough to help you remember how important A's are, and to make you try harder and be better next time."_

_Emily's mother raised the ruler, and Emily tried her best to take herself away. Maybe another book, a poem…think of something. Anything to keep from crying. Being here. Facing this. Her mind landed on something. Hamlet. Even if Emily was too young to understand Shakespeare or classic literature, she loved the language and would memorize random snatches._

"_O, that this too too solid flesh would melt__/__Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!__/__Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd/__His__canon__'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!__/_

_**CRACK!**_

_How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable__/ __Seem to me all the uses of this world!/Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden/That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature__/Possess it merely. That it should come to this!/_

_**CRACK!**_

_But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two/So excellent a king; that was, to this/Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother/That he might not beteem the winds of heaven__/Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!/Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,__/As if increase of__appetite__had grown/By what it fed on: and yet, within a month–_

_**CRACK!**_

___Let me not think on't Frailty, thy name is woman!–/A little month, or ere those shoes were old__/With which she follow'd my poor father's body/Like Niobe, all tears:–why she, even she–/O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason/_

_**CRACK!**_

_Would have mourn'd longer–married with my /My father's brother, but no more like my father/Than I to Hercules: within a month/Ere yet the__salt__of most unrighteous tears/Had left the__flushing__in her galled eyes,/_

_**CRACK!**_

_She married. O, most wicked speed, to post/With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!/It is not nor it cannot come to good:/But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue."_

_Emily came back to herself. A white-hot pain seared through her right hand. It was always her right hand, because she was left-handed. She needed to always be able to write. "Can I go now?" she asked._

_Her mother nodded. Calmly, without crying or showing any hint of the pain, Emily walked to her room and gently shut the door. Only then did she grab her hand with her good one, massaging it, gasping for breath as the pain shot through her._

Prentiss was surprised to find that she was still in her dorm room. The need to cut filled her worse than it had since everyone found out, almost worse than any other time. But, glancing at the clock, she calculated she couldn't do it right then; if anything went wrong or it took longer than usual, she'd be late to take her final.

Prentiss got through her final, managing to focus on the subject, and came back to her dorm three hours later with the urge, if anything, increased. Luckily, she still had her blades. She grabbed her shoulder bag and headed to the one private bathroom with a lock, in the dorm basement. As quickly as she could, she locked the door behind her, cleaned a blade, and sat down on the cold tile. She couldn't cut her arm. JJ or her friends might notice. Finally, she decided. Prentiss wriggled partially out of her black skinny jeans, chose a place on her thigh, and plunged, carved.

Shit. This was not like the other times. There was too much blood, and she was starting to feel weak. It was all she could do, using tissues and paper towels, to keep herself from bleeding all over the floor. It was deeper than she intended. Dimly, Prentiss knew there was an artery somewhere in the general area of where she'd cut.

There was just enough cell service for her to send a text. JJ. _Please, come ASAP. Help me. I'm in the downstairs bathroom of our dorm. I…it's too deep._

JJ got the text right away and dropped her research articles in the middle of the crowded library, only just remembering to place them on a desk before she rushed out. Five minutes later, Prentiss, who didn't want to stand because the wound might bleed more, managed to reach up and undo the lock to let JJ in.

"Emily….oh God, Emily." JJ, knowing Prentiss hated yelling, only just managed not to shout.

"What if someone finds out?" Prentiss mumbled.

JJ thought fast. "The school won't have to. I'm taking you to the ER, though. I'll call Garcia to get us."

Garcia's VW bug screeched up, parking illegally, less than ten minutes later. She drove crazily through the city, speeding and honking, until the three of them reached the hospital. Prentiss's lips were starting to turn blue, and when they walked in, she leaned heavily on both Garcia and JJ.

At intake, a tired-looking nurse asked, "What happened?"

"She…I…" JJ began, unsure of how much to reveal.

"It was an accident. I fell off my bike," Prentiss lied. "Accident."

**(A/N:** **The song is "Words" by Between the Trees, and the book excerpts are named. I don't own them, or CM. I didn't mean for Prentiss to do this, I swear, the story just takes on its own life sometimes.) **


	14. Hold

**(A/N: I'm not sure how ER procedure works in this case, although I have a general idea. However, it's true that when people who self-harm seek medical attention for their injuries, they're often mistreated: put at the bottom of the waiting line for treatment, being treated like a waste of time, not getting any understanding or follow-up, or even being denied anesthetic for stitches. I think Garcia will help fight this here, but for many people, it's an unfortunate reality. If this ever happens to you or someone else, be prepared to advocate/argue.)**

JJ and Garcia looked at Prentiss, stunned that she lied. In the space of a few seconds, they looked at each other, and JJ shook her head ever so slightly. Garcia opened her mouth as if to say something, then shut it again. JJ looked back at Prentiss, thinking _If__you__'__re__going__to__lie__…__you__'__re__on__your__own__here._ _I__said__I__'__d__**help**__you,__not__cover__for__you._

"Accident, then?" the intake nurse said. "Are you sure? Did you really fall?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Prentiss weakly protested. "I told you, I fell off my bike."

She eyed the dark-haired, pale girl suspiciously. "Hmm, all right then. It's December, isn't it cold for that? But remember, we can't help you as well here if you're not being truthful. I'll just take down the rest of your information, then, and then you should have a seat and wait-"

"How long will that take?" Garcia interrupted. "Emily's already lost a lot of blood, does she have to be unconscious for you to see her right away?"

The nurse scowled. "Everyone has to spend some time waiting, do you think our doctors just sit around? They're busy. We'll get to her when we can."

That turned out to be about an hour and a half later, despite Garcia's going up twice more to argue. "I'm sorry, hon, they're just being insensitive jerks who obviously don't appreciate the seriousness of what's going on!" she snapped. Just then, a resident in scrubs asked for Prentiss.

This started a small argument between her and JJ. Prentiss knew what was coming; she would be examined, poked, prodded, all her scars exposed. The shame was so heavy, dark; she didn't want JJ to see, and she also wanted to shield her. _If__she__saw__what__I__really__was,__she__'__d__run__away,__leave__for__sure._ "You're not coming with me," Prentiss hissed through clenched teeth. She was biting her tongue to keep herself in control, keep from crying or losing it here.

"You can barely walk!" JJ hissed back. "I'm going to help you, and you're just going to have to deal with it. Besides, they're treating you like dirt here. You need someone who can stand up for you. Now, here-" the blond stood up. "-get up, take my arm, just lean on me. That's it. I'm coming whether you like it or not. Garcia, we'll see you after the procedure, okay?"

The doctor led them back to a small curtained cubicle, where Prentiss half-collapsed on the exam table. Her demeanor seemed to soften as her energy drained. She looked at JJ for a second, and the blond was shocked at the pure terror in her eyes. "Hold my hand. Stay close," she whispered.

"You already heard. I'm not leaving. Here-" she awkwardly crammed herself into an extra folding chair on one side of Prentiss, as near as she could put herself.

"Don't let go."

"I won't. I promise."

Prentiss's hand was like a vice on her friend's, and JJ could feel her shaking.

"All right," the doctor, a short, dark-haired man not ten years older than JJ or Prentiss, with a clipped Indian accent, said quietly. "Let's see what's going on here."

This was the moment Prentiss was dreading. She moved the large wad of paper towels away from her bleeding thigh, then awkwardly, grimacing, slid her injured leg out of her jeans. She could hardly even see the wound any more, because there was so much blood. JJ bit her tongue to stifle a gasp. Aside from the one deep gash, that whole area of Prentiss's leg was a spiderweb of scars in various stages of healing. With a sigh of relief, JJ noticed that all of them except the latest were at least semi-healed.

"Don't look," Prentiss said to JJ. "It's disgusting." _She__'__s__going__to__leave__me.__I__can__'__t__ask__her__to__handle__this.__I__'__m__a__…__mutant.__Who__could__love__this__once__they__'__ve__seen__it?_

"It's okay," the doctor said as he set out the equipment. "We're used to seeing blood. I'm just going to start cleaning this up. It won't hurt. I do have to check the depth though." Prentiss's grip tightened on JJ as he pried, then relaxed minimally as the cut was cleaned. Then, his face changed to a puzzled scowl as he saw the other scars.

"How did this…are you doing this to yourself?" Prentiss didn't answer, turning instead to stare at the ceiling. The lights above were so harsh.

JJ took this as her chance. Making sure Prentiss wasn't looking at her, she nodded at the doctor.

He didn't say anything, just continued to work on her until she was stitched, thankfully, JJ noted, using anesthetic. It seemed to take forever, but finally he was carefully sticking a large gauze pad over the whole mess. Prentiss slid back into her jeans as soon as possible.

"Now don't run or jump or anything like that until the stitches come out, you might reopen it. Come back in about a week, then someone here can take them back out. When did you last get a tetanus shot? I also want to just get your vitals to make sure you're okay. And you have to speak to our psychologist on call before we let you leave. Standard procedure for anyone who comes in with a self-inflicted injury, which this, and, er…the other scars clearly are."

"I can't remember. Do I have to talk to someone?" Prentiss mumbled. A wave of anxiety and exhaustion flooded her.

"She's already seeing someone for this," JJ said. "Can't we just get out of here?"

The doctor shrugged. "I'm afraid rules are rules. If you can't remember the last time you had a tetanus shot, I'm going to give you one just to be on the safe side." He did that, and again Prentiss squeezed JJ's hand. She hated needles. After taking Prentiss's pulse, blood pressure, and shining a penlight into her eyes, he concluded, "The good news is you didn't need a blood transfusion, but you're dehydrated from…did you drink and eat much today? That combined with blood loss probably caused it."

"It's finals, I was so stressed that I felt sick all day," Prentiss admitted. "I couldn't have anything."

"I just want to keep you here a little bit longer, all right? I'm going to give you some IV fluids, and you have to stay until the bag's empty. But it's just as well, you have to stay and talk to who's on call now anyway."

Guilt hit JJ. She had been too encompassed in finishing her paper; she hadn't realized Prentiss was having such a hard time. After Prentiss's IV got started, there was nothing to do but wait.

"I'm sorry," Prentiss said under her breath. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I bet you want to leave me now."

"Don't say that!" JJ scolded. "I won't leave because of this. I knew you were dealing with this when I decided to date you. It was part of the deal. I'm staying. I'm here."

Prentiss blinked rapidly, trying not to cry, but she couldn't stop the tears. She tried to choke them back, couldn't breathe.

"Shh, Emily. Shhhh. I'm not leaving." She stood up, trying to hold her, stroking her dark hair out of her face. "Just calm down, all right?" And JJ was telling the truth. She stayed with her through the follow-up, going home, through the rest of the day. They slept together that night, Prentiss's lanky body curled up in the blond's.


	15. Christmas Bells

**(A/N: Been busy with school and figuring out what to do after graduation. But I had a really great interview for a law clerk internship today! It might work out that I don't have to go home after graduation after all! YAY! Warning: femslash in this chapter.)**

Somehow, Prentiss, JJ, and the others had managed to finish their finals. Prentiss found herself, once again, piling her bags into the back of JJ's parents car late that night, December 22nd. Still, it hurt that she hadn't heard from her father. She'd hoped to have a Christmas with at least one member of her family. And JJ's, no matter how nice they were, could never replace that.

The two of them sat together in the back seat, not saying anything, exhausted for most of the ride to JJ's. Prentiss fell asleep on JJ's shoulder, snoring slightly and not even waking up when they stopped for gas. JJ got a blanket out of the trunk and leaned her friend against the window, because her arm was starting to go numb. The dark-haired girl didn't wake up.

JJ's family ordered pizza when they got home, but both of the girls were falling asleep over their plates. They were so tired that they didn't even mind sleeping in separate beds. Just as Prentiss was about to fall asleep, she thought of JJ, her tenderness, her love. As she rolled over and closed her eyes, she promised herself she'd have the courage to give the blond everything. Maybe as a Christmas present.

It was noon before the girls woke up the next day. Prentiss, up first, changed and went to the kitchen, hoping there was leftover pizza. No dice. The fridge was full to bursting with Christmas dinner trimmings, but there was nothing that would be easy to make. Then she saw a note on the counter.

_JJ, your father and I are finishing our Christmas shopping today. We'll be gone until tonight. Could you polish the table settings for the dinner tomorrow night? Please behave yourselves._

Prentiss decided to go back upstairs and wake JJ. It felt like it was going to be a good day- one of the best days she'd had in ages. Outside, it was beginning to snow, a shiny white coat forming over ice and slush. She opened JJ's blinds and kissed her forehead as she began to stir sleepily. "Will you fix us something? I'm _starving._"

JJ smiled and poked her playfully. "Sure. Looks like you're having a good day."

"Your parents left a note saying they're shopping and will be back tonight. We have to polish some silver, and we're supposed to behave- but I don't feel like that today," she said mischievously.

They went back down to the kitchen together, and in no time, JJ was cracking eggs dug out from the back of the fridge as Christmas carols played on the stereo. As they scarfed them down, JJ mumbled, "I feel like having a lazy day. Do you want to just eat and go back to bed? Um…together?"

Prentiss thought for a minute, then nodded. She knew where this might lead. She hated the idea of exposing herself that came with any affection, intimacy, but knew deep down, JJ would never judge her. The blond washed their dishes, and Prentiss dried them, then hand in hand, they went back up the stairs to JJ's room. They cuddled, propped on several pillows, for a few minutes, then Prentiss placed her lips over JJ's in a deep and passionate kiss, hard yet yielding, probing. JJ shivered as she ran her hands up her spine and along her collarbone.

JJ gently pushed Prentiss far enough off her to look her in the eye. "Em, what…? Do you want to…um…"

Heat was rising from the dark-haired girl's chest, a warm glow that seemed to grow and spread out into her whole body.

"Yes, JJ. We'll take it slow, but I want this. I want you."

"Are you _sure_?"

"I love you, I'm finally ready to…I know you…don't care about my scars. You love me anyway."

JJ nodded and returned the kiss. "You're beautiful. No matter what."

The tops were the first thing to go. Unhesitatingly, JJ slid out of her tank top, so she was down to a bra and sweatpants. It was harder for Prentiss. She slowly slipped out of her sweater, glancing carefully at JJ to gauge her reaction. She had never even gotten down to a tank top in front of her before.

"It's okay, sweetie," the blond said quietly. "All I see is you, who I love."

"_Whom_ I love," Prentiss laughed. "You are talking to an English major, after all!"

"Regardless, it's true," she said, running her hands over the girl's arms, shoulders, collarbone, and neck. Shivers of ecstasy ran through them both, but for Prentiss, it was mixed with shame. _I can do this,_ she told herself. _I want to._ The next thing to come off were her jeans. After several more minutes of cuddling and assurances, she took them off, kicking them further under the covers. JJ eagerly got out of hers too.

"Can I…help you? Is it okay if I take this off?" JJ said, fingering the edge of Prentiss's tank top. "I promise you, I'm not judging you."

Prentiss lay back and let the blond take that, and eventually, after about another hour, they both were taking off their last bits of clothing.

"Are you still okay with this?" JJ asked.

She nodded. "I really want this, I just, let's take some time and relax, there's no hurry."

"Okay, Emily. Lie down and I'll rub your back, if you like." JJ worked her warm hands over every inch of Prentiss's back, working the knots out, reassuring her. After maybe twenty more minutes, the dark-haired girl suddenly grabbed JJ's hand and moved it to her own breasts.

That was the catalyst. Prentiss's mind was empty, unworried as long as they were in motion. Their hands were soft on each others' chests, then she abruptly moved so her body covered JJ's, grinding gently at first, then harder. They cried out against each other, and Prentiss grabbed JJ's long hair as they climaxed, panting.

"My turn," JJ said as their breathing returned to normal. "I'm going to blow your mind."

She started to rub Prentiss's breasts, adding an occasional unexpected tug or twist. Once she was satisfied she was sufficiently aroused, JJ suddenly asked, "Can I take these sheets off for a little bit? I have a really good idea,"

Prentiss looked at her, unsure. "Um, JJ, I'm naked. If you saw it all, you'd think I was hideous and leave."

"No, Em, I just wanted to do this," she said quietly, kissing a scar on the dark-haired girl's wrist. "I want to kiss them all. I don't care if there are a lot."

"All right," Prentiss agreed. She lay next to JJ on the large, now-bare bed, and for the first time, as JJ's lips touched all the pain she'd gone through, she gradually stopped thinking about how ugly she was and instead was overwhelmed by the sense of how much JJ loved her. She started crying, tears sliding sideways out of her eyes.

"Are you okay? Do you want me to stop? What's wrong?" JJ interrogated.

"No, don't stop. Please. I'm not crying because I'm ashamed, but because I've never had someone love me like this before. I'm amazed and happy and…"

Prentiss hadn't expected her first time to happen with her nose still running, but it did. It was very gentle, quiet, and instead of feeling pressured or made disgusting by what she'd done, the only feeling that remained was that of being loved.

Later that day, when she had a moment alone, she took her razor blades out of her bag and just looked at them, considering. Deep down, she knew she couldn't be loyal to both them and to JJ, her human love. But giving up was harder than she thought. Then it hit her. _New Year's Day. I could maybe throw them out then. I don't feel ready, but I don't want to let JJ down._

Christmas with JJ's family went better than she thought; Prentiss always felt included, not pitied, and she even got a few gifts from them. Time passed quickly until their December 26 th celebration with all of their friends.

They were sitting in Garcia's apartment that cold afternoon, all drinking hot chocolate. Prentiss and JJ had to laugh; Garcia had gone Christmas-crazy, it looked as if the North Pole had thrown up in there. "I made a whole Christmas dinner, too! Reid helped, his cooking skills are improving," she squealed.

After dinner, they all exchanged gifts. Reid crowed over the books and poster Prentiss had gotten him, and JJ and Prentiss gave each other just small gifts. JJ had changed her plan. She now knew the perfect time for the rings. Prentiss also got another pair of Converse, custom colored, from Morgan, a new scarf and earrings from Garcia, a poster from Hotchner, and a self-help book and journal from Reid. She rolled her eyes, but knew the nerd meant well.

The way out was never easy, but Prentiss knew now that she was never going to have to be alone again.


	16. New Year's Day

_Oh my God, _JJ thought as she carefully placed the simple gold band in a small black jewelry box she'd gotten for the occasion. _I think I'm going to hurl. I'm so nervous._ _What if she thinks I'm being too clingy and says no?_ It was the evening of the last day of the year, and she was getting ready for a New Year's party at Garcia's. She hoped what she was planning tonight would help bridge the gap that had come up between her and Prentiss. They had argued a few days ago.

It had been the 28th, and Prentiss had slipped on ice while they were walking together, spilling the contents of her bag. JJ had courteously begun to help her pick up what had fallen, though Prentiss insisted she could get it herself. The blonde figured out why once she saw the blades littering the snowy ground, and couldn't stop herself from speaking when she handed them back.

"I can't believe I'm letting you have these again. I'd really hoped they would be gone by now," JJ said. The words came out more sharply than she intended.

"I'm sorry, JJ. But-" Prentiss countered, her voice rising, "did you really think that all it would take for me to stop was us- having sex? And me crying a little? This is complicated!"

"They just took your stitches from last time out yesterday! I love you, I want to help. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"It does! Don't play that card now! You think love can solve everything, but it can't!" Prentiss spat back.

There was a silence. Their combined breath crystallized in the cold air. "You're right," the blonde admitted. "But I thought it might help. I want to be there for you and help you get through this. You won't let me in, so what am I supposed to do?"

"I'm trying! Sorry if it isn't going fast enough for you!" the dark-haired girl half-shouted.

"I know it'll take a long time for you to get better. So excuse me for wanting to speed the process up and stop you from suffering! Do you even _want_ to stop?" JJ argued back.

"Obviously! Do you think I want to live like this? You don't know how hard it is- stopping, giving this up! You have no idea, you can't even imagine…" All JJ could see of her now was her back as she half-ran off towards the apartment she'd just begun sharing with Garcia.

They didn't talk for two days, and on the 30th, Prentiss seemed clipped, cold in response to the apology JJ had texted her. But at least they were talking. For JJ, Prentiss seemed a necessary element for life now, like air, like water, like coffee. She couldn't bear to stay away.

They hadn't seen each other since that day, hence JJ's nervousness as she knocked at the apartment door for the New Year's party Garcia was hosting.

Prentiss answered. "JJ, come in." They studied each other; Prentiss no longer seemed angry, more sad than anything.

"I'm…" she began. "I know you meant well when we…argued. You're just going to have to be patient with me. I'm sorry I shouted. You just want to help."

JJ nodded. "I want to help, but sometimes I feel like you're not asking for it or letting me when I could. You can get me to help you, all right?"

"Just don't push me. You know I'm independent and don't let people close very much."

The blonde swallowed hard. "I'll…find a balance."

"JJ, maybe you could…do you want to go with me sometime when I go see Dr. Lake? She might be able to talk to you, tell you how to help me," Prentiss said hesitantly.

JJ nodded. "If you're offering, I will. I don't want to infringe, but I want to help you figure things out. Now please, Emily, can I have a hug? I've missed being with you, even if only for a couple of days."

"Okay." They hugged for a long moment; Prentiss was still slightly annoyed, but had to admit she enjoyed the smell of JJ's hair, a flowery, light scent so good as to be intoxicating.

The coldness between them was fully thawed in the next few hours as the party began. They counted down the hours until midnight, and the longer the party went on, the fuller the apartment got. Garcia always threw amazing parties; the flow of champagne and hors d'ouerves was never-ending. At 11:30, JJ broke away from Prentiss and the crowd, pulling Reid aside into Garcia's room.

"What's going on, JJ?" he asked.

"I'm going to propose, no, that's not the right word. I'm going to ask Prentiss to make me a promise." She pulled the rings out of her jacket she'd flung onto a chair. "I got these when we all split up and went Christmas shopping. They're just plain gold. If we get engaged, even married, we can upgrade them as we go."

"So it's a promise ring," Reid concluded. "You want a future together."

"I want to show her that I'm committed to her. Through everything. She seems to think I'm going to leave her because of what she's dealing with, or that I'll wake up and realize she's a terrible person and I can do much better. Reid, she's never really been loved. Had someone who'll always stand by her, I mean. I want to be that person."

The young man looked at JJ seriously. "Are you sure about this? Are you sure you want to…marry her eventually? Be together, have a real commitment? Because the way you're talking about this, this promise, if she says yes, is the first step towards marriage. You can't go breaking that off, or leave her hanging and never go any further than this. Do you see her at your wedding, across the altar from you? If the answer is no, don't do this."

"I know this is serious," JJ said. "But I do…I see her there at that altar. She means so much to me. I promise you, I'm not messing her around."

A short while later, one minute to midnight, Garcia announced, "All right, everyone find the person they're going to kiss to ring in the new year!" Prentiss's arm was around JJ's.

"Got her right here!" she called back. "Who will you kiss? Morgan?"

"5…4…3…2…1…Happy New Year!" the partygoers chanted. JJ looked into Prentiss's eyes and gave her a deep, passionate kiss, the likes of which they'd never shared before. It drew looks and wolf-whistles from the rest of the crowded room.

JJ's insides were shaking Jell-O. "Sit down, Emily, and I'll get us one more drink and be right back." Her hands were twitching so badly that Hotchner had to carry the champagne glasses back to them and set them on the coffee table. She surreptitiously gathered Reid and their other friends around them and cuddled up next to Prentiss on the couch.

"I-I, Emily, I have to ask you a question."

"Sure, go ahead…what's going on?"

JJ reached into her pocket for the small black ring box. There were gasps from their friends, and Prentiss just looked stunned. "I want to ask you to make me a promise. A commitment to me. To us. I'm not asking you to marry me or get engaged, at least not…but promise." Prentiss looked like she was going to cry, then began, but smiled through her tears, and mumbled something JJ didn't catch, so she continued. "This is also to show you I'm willing to stick with you no matter what happens, make that real. I know we haven't been together long, and-"

Prentiss interrupted. "JJ, I already said yes!"

The blonde threw her arms around her. "That's great! And it's the new year. This is a whole new time for us. Start new with me. Love me."

Prentiss nodded. "Why are you crying?" JJ asked.

"I'm just so happy," she sniffled. "Normally, I'm crying because I'm sad, but this is totally different."

After finally kicking the guests out and starting to clean up, JJ stayed over at the apartment last night; she and Prentiss made love, then finally fell asleep together in the early hours of the morning.

Prentiss woke up in the early afternoon of the cold bright New Year's Day while the blonde was still asleep. She thought of the ideas she'd had, the plan she'd made. Now, this instant, was the time to carry it out, before she lost her nerve. Now, with JJ, just after their promise and on one of the best days of her life, was her chance. The blades might not have a weaker hold on her anytime soon than right now. She woke up JJ. "Get up, get dressed, please, come with me. I need you for something."

They dressed quickly and wordlessly, Prentiss slipping a few small matchbox-sized cardboard and plastic containers in her jacket pocket. JJ began to realize what she was planning to do.

"Is that…is that all of them?" she asked. Prentiss nodded.

"Are you sure? Every one of them?"

She nodded again. "I'm scared."

"That's okay," JJ said. "But I'm with you. Here. I know this is hard."

They walked silently, hand-in-hand, the several blocks down to the river. Its very edges were frozen, but the current was too fast and the weather still not cold enough to freeze it. The snow and sun created a bright, silent world. They were alone in the streets; the whole city felt like their own private playground.

Making their way to the bridge, a small pedestrian-only one about 30 feet up over the water, JJ and Prentiss climbed over snowbanks and through fresh powder until they reached the middle or it. The dark-haired girl put an arm out over the railing, holding one tiny box, yet one that held so much pain, in her closed fist.

"I'm not sure," she said slowly. "I've counted on these-" she struggled to say the word, "-blades for so long. They've given me so much pain, but it's what I know. How I've lived and coped and survived. It's…security. Something that would stand by me. It's a relationship, in a way."

"Emily," JJ put a hand on her partner's shoulder and stroked her hair out of her face. "You can count on me now. I'm standing with you. _I'm _your security, and you can count on me, a living, breathing, _loving_ person, better than you can a sharp piece of metal. That relationship, it could destroy you. But if you're with me, we can create something amazing. And it's New Year's Day. Can you imagine making 2011 a totally different, better year?"

"I know!" Prentiss suddenly cried out. "But I can't do this, I just can't!"

"You're choosing _them?_ That's what you're going to let truly have your heart, no matter how long we stay together?"

"I don't _want_ them!" she shouted.

"Then go with your plan. Get rid of them. I'll help you, I said I'd always help you with anything!" JJ said forcefully.

"You don't think I couldn't just go buy more? Improvise with a paperclip or notebook wire or CD case if that was all there was?" Prentiss asked. She started crying.

JJ hugged her tightly, placing her hand over Prentiss's fist where the blades were, holding her. Prentiss buried her face in the blonde's shoulder; she felt her shaking.

"I know that," JJ said. "You can get more…things anywhere, use anything. You might get more tomorrow or the next day, but for now, this instant, you'd be rid of them. You'd be free. Don't you want that?"


	17. Let Go

Prentiss was saying something through her sobs, but JJ couldn't make it out; the dark-haired girl was almost choking. "It's okay. Just please, calm down. What are you trying to say? I'm here. I can't understand you when…"

After a few minutes, Prentiss pulled away and mumbled something. "What?" JJ asked.

"I want to…be free. I just don't know how I'll work my life out, if I can't hurt myself. Then I have to _feel_, and they're so strong."

"You're stronger! You can learn, make some changes. And I'll always be here," JJ said, tears starting to form in her own eyes as well.

Prentiss wiped her face, but couldn't stop her own tears. "All right. I'll do it." Her voice was almost a whisper, but the blond heard. Prentiss was still holding her fist with the box of blades in it out over the water.

"Okay. All you have to do is open your hand. Just drop them. Let go. We can count to five, and…" JJ trailed off.

Prentiss nodded mutely, started to count under her breath. But she didn't even wait for five. By the time she looked down at the river, she couldn't see the blades any more. Then she looked at JJ and managed a half-smile.

"Now for the rest of them." There was no hesitation now; she started by simply dropping them down, then flung the last small container that held her enemy towards the horizon with as much force as she could muster. She could always get more, that was true, but in this second, there was no pain. Her chains were undone.

Nothing was certain, though. In the back of her mind, Prentiss realized she still had so far to go. She would likely continue to hurt herself, to have bad days, for a long time yet. But for now, she felt…happy. A line from another of her favorite books popped into her head. _Brave new world…O, brave new world that has such people in it._ She then thought of JJ. They would make their own world together.

They walked home in silence, but smiling. But later, when they were sitting together at Prentiss's and Garcia's apartment, with Garcia there as well, thinking about what to fix for an, albeit very late, breakfast, Prentiss started to cry again.

JJ was rooting around in the fridge, so she didn't see at first. "Are you okay?" Garcia asked, rubbing her friend's back. "What's up?"

"JJ and I left this morning, and we went down to the river. I…threw out all my razor blades," she said quickly, as if that would make it less unpleasant.

Garcia was so excited she actually squealed. "That's amazing, sweetie! I'm so proud of you, and I know JJ is too."

JJ turned around to look at them and nodded. "For sure. I know it was really hard to do, though. It's okay to…feel upset."

"It's confusing. I'm happy somehow too. Nervous as well, thinking about how I'm going to make it without hurting myself."

"Don't ever get to thinking you're alone here!" Garcia insisted. "JJ and I are here, and so are all our friends. And maybe you can…call your doctor tomorrow, and let her know about this. Then you can sort this out and see this was really a great thing you did."

"You're right. I'm not alone."

That turned out to be the best day Prentiss had had in ages.


	18. Epilogue

**Five months later…**

Prentiss whimpered in her sleep, struggling slightly against the now-tangled sheets. JJ woke up when the dark-haired girl started talking. "I don't…stop! I don't want this!" The blond touched her face. It was wet. They had been curled up next to each other in Prentiss's bed. Her nightmares had begun about two months before this, but she hadn't told JJ about them until one night the previous week when she had one when they were sleeping together.

"Em," JJ said quietly, wiping her partner's tears off her cheeks. Prentiss probably didn't even realize she was crying. "Wake up."

The dark-haired girl's whole body went tense, and the dim moonlight glinted off her terrified eyes. "Did I…oh, it's you, JJ. Please, turn on the light," she whispered.

The blond clicked the lamp on the nightstand on. Prentiss threw back the sheets, rolling up her sleeves, then her pant legs, and anxiously patted her body down. She sighed.

"I didn't…do it, did I? Am I bleeding?"

JJ's eyes flicked over her. "No, you're okay, I promise. It was just another bad dream."

Prentiss was so panicked she was almost gasping for air, and the blond could feel her shaking, her heart beating rapidly.

"It's okay. Just breathe, all right? Remember what you did in counseling not too long ago? Relaxation strategies? When you start to feel like this, remember, you're supposed to breathe in for four seconds, or as long as you can, then out for four. Just try," JJ coached.

It took several minutes after they lay down again, but Prentiss's breathing eventually slowed, then became more even, less deliberate. She'd fallen back asleep.

These nightmares had been happening two, sometimes three, times a week. Although Prentiss's brain had been able to somewhat readjust itself in the first few months without cutting, now that it was no longer influenced as much by the endorphin and opiate "high" doing that produced, the psychological cravings remained. Dr. Lake had explained that, unfortunately, she would probably never be completely free of the urge to cut herself, though by learning to manage it, she could live "normally." Whatever "normal" was. And right now, those cravings were manifesting themselves subconsciously, through Prentiss's dreams.

One thing was clear; Prentiss was trying, more so than she had done with anything else in her life before, to stop. What she had done filled her with regret every day, and she was almost terrified that she might one day start again. Hence the nightmares. In them, she would hurt herself quite badly- there would be so much blood she'd feel like she was drowning, and she would have to turn on the lights when she woke up and check that she was uninjured. They were that real.

She was learning, though, and knew this pain wouldn't last forever. She had hope.

**One year after that….**

Prentiss and JJ threw their graduation caps in the air as the school band creaked out "Pomp and Circumstance," sweating in their polyester uniforms. Prentiss had gotten into law school, and JJ into graduate school, on the same university campus in a large city three hours away. They would live together. One thing was certain about their future in the face of all the uncertainty; they would stand by each other.

Prentiss knelt down as they shared a quiet moment together, looking around their undergraduate campus one last time later that day. "JJ, will you marry me? I know we made a promise to each other…but now I want to get engaged."

JJ, of course, agreed.

**Five years after that…**

Garcia was crying in the first row of chairs that stood before the altar and the white wood arch covered in orange tiger lilies and white roses. Reid was wiping his eyes, and even the macho Morgan and Hotchner looked moved.

JJ had walked down the aisle first, and now it was Prentiss's turn. They were wearing matching white strapless dresses with small veils. And their friends were so moved not because they were sad, but because of Prentiss's strength and happiness. One could still see her scars; Prentiss had refused makeup to cover them. She actually had grown to like them, as they showed how far she'd come. But they were completely outshone by her smile. She was almost literally glowing, a warm silvery light emanating from her very self, a light that shimmered over and enhanced the beauty of not only her, but everyone around her. And next to that, her mistakes, her pain, could hold no more power.


End file.
